


Different: A Supernatural Fanfiction

by the_writing_heron



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexuality, Domestic Violence, Homophobia, M/M, Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_writing_heron/pseuds/the_writing_heron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOTE: I have changed usernames. I am now the-writing-heron. Please contact me there if you wish to talk to me!</p><p>A Supernatural High School AU in which Castiel, Meg, and Dean all attend Truman High School. Cas and Meg are best friends; always have been and always will. For the longest time, it is just the two of them. Two becomes three as Dean Winchester joins the hallways of the school. At first, no one knows anything about Dean Winchester. But as tragedy strikes, Cas discovers just how much Dean means to him, and how much he means to Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sign of the Soul

"You were born sick, you fucker! What're you but just, just some piece of nothing?! You were born sick! No one cares about you, Castiel! No one cares that you're broken, you worthless piece of shit!" You're different! Different is bad, little fucker. Different is _never_ good! I've seen you, looking at boys with eyes you should look at girls with! _Looking_ at them! Like that! You can deny it all you want, you disgusting queer, but I see it! I see everything in you, boy!"

The power of a father's arm is the equivalent of a lightning strike. But the scar is worse. The scar haunts the dreams of the weak and the afraid. It pains those who are influenced too easily, those who know nothing but pain and abuse. It sparks a flame of anger, pain, and sadness. These emotions shine dully in their languid eyes, screaming to the world their problems, their cravings. A father's arms can rip at the soul of their children, and the blood that pours from within is the essence of the child itself. It can annihilate the very sense of self in a young boy, a boy who knows that different is bad, and a boy who knows that he was born with an incurable sickness. A sickness that makes people cringe, eyes gleaming in suspicion and hatred. Why? It is because in their eyes, different is unacceptable. Different is never a good quality. Different is a pathogen that must be avoided by any means possible.

Lying awake at night, Castiel heard his father's drunken words. He saw in his mind's eyes his father's eyes, eyes that were pierced with fierce anger and disgust. He saw a monster with the teeth of the wolf, the claws of the lion, and the words of the Devil. He saw the monster, the monster that reared above him and beat him. He knew the monster wasn't different, because the monster was never told that it was bad. The monster was never told that it was a little fucker. The monster was never told that it was a queer.

His words, echoing from deep in the past, cut every single one of Castiel's nights. Every one of his dreams was riddled with the curses and the threats. Every night, Castiel listened as he was told, over and over, that different was bad. He should fit in, like the rest of the boys. He should look at the girls the way he looked at boys. He should play football. He should go out at nights, find a girl, and spend the night with her. He shouldn't read books for fun. He shouldn't draw. He shouldn't sing. He shouldn't do anything even remotely different. He should wear a mask, his true self burning with shame beneath the thick plastic. Why?

Because different is disgusting.

Night, after night, after night. Different is bad. Different is never good. Different is despicable. Different is never alright. Every night, he listened and watched as his dreams withered and twisted into a demon with the face of a nightmare, and with laughter that sounded like the screams of dying children.

He heard those children screaming, through every night, through all of his haunted dreams.

Different is bad.

Queer is bad. Singing is bad. Writing down the strangled words of the pain that screamed in his eye's luminous light was bad. Having a girl for a best friend was bad. Drawing the images that appeared in his mind's blind eye was bad. Every little action he did was bad. Castiel's entire existence was bad. He was nothing in the eyes of the universe. He was just an annoying fucker, with sullen eyes that said it all.

Being himself was just about the most heinous crime that he could commit. He always had to be like someone else. He had to be like someone who fit the stereotypes that littered the world, someone who was the apple of the universe's eyes. Someone who was different in Castiel's eyes, eyes diseased with suffering. Eyes that were different. Eyes that were meant to look at girls, but wandered over to guys.

Castiel lay awake during the nights that screamed at him, and saw the black sky littered with the sparkling stars. As he gazed into the very soul of the night, he realized he was chained. He was shackled to a monster that lashed out at him, who roared over his bleeding frame. He was tethered to a household that crushed his dreams, that crushed his heart, that crushed his very soul. He was tied to the Devil. He was chained to his sickness; sickness that caused him to cry out into the night, into the face of the God he knew didn't exist.

"I was born sick! Oh please, God, just let me be the same. Let me be good. Let me be the son my father wants. I am filth in the eyes of my family. Polish me, so that I can shine, so that I can the same, so that I can be loved. _Cure me so I can fit in! Cure me so I can live my life! Cure me so I can escape this wretched hell I call my life!_ Castiel screamed silently into the stars, into the heavenly kingdom of his Father above.

But his Father above and below never seemed to listen.

Castiel asked for peace. Peace was too much to ask for, because he was different. Different never once got peace. Why?

Because different was bad, in every sense of the word.

* * *

"Well, Clarence, that's a nice cut you got there." Said Meg through her tongue, as she concentrated on scrubbing the wet rag deep into the gash along Castiel's jaw. God knows what kind of dirt and grime had gotten into it. She had seen Cas's house once before; it smelled of hatred, beer, and filth constantly. None of the inhabitants seemed to care for the rattrap hovel; none except for Castiel, who tried his hardest to keep his living quarters clean. Meg had been in the house once, and no longer possessed a desire to step foot in it ever again. Whatever Cas's father had used to inflict the cut probably had some kind of dirt able to cause infection in it. The thought of it made her feel sick to her stomach.

Cas wasn't talking. He wasn't looking at Meg, his head bowed as he stared at his hands. He just sat there in the pained silence that he always sat in when he had gotten into a fight with his father. Cas was by no means a fighter, and Meg knew it. He wasn't physically incapable of fighting; Quite the contrary. Cas never resorted to violence, and that left him vulnerable. He always staggered away from the battle ragged. It was always a one sided fight. His father raged, roaring with the voice of hell. Cas whimpered and took it all.

Cas felt a heaviness deep in his chest. His heart seemed to drag its feet as he recalled the night's events. He didn't want to think about it. But Cas had the brain of a worrier. The brain of a worrier is a great burden. Like a malicious demon, it always reminded Cas of his mistakes, his terrible experiences. As soon as he woke in the morning, his brain would come to life, chattering happily about all the embarrassing, aggravating, and sad times he had. Every night, Cas fell asleep to his brain jabbering nonstop. It always told Cas that he was disgusting, that he was different. He never had a peaceful moment. Keeping himself busy with school was the only way for him to quit thinking about all the terrible things that had happened, the only way for him to clap his hand over his mind's ever-talking mouth. If Cas didn't have school, he would go insane, trapped inside a mind that pounded him relentlessly.

Meg watched as Cas played with his fingers in his lap. Those fingers shook as they danced together, shaking with barely restrained misery and rage. Meg applauded the amount of self control Cas could exercise; this boy would never need an anger management class in his life. She watched his hunched shoulders, shoulders that seemed to gobble up his neck. She saw his defeated posture. She heard his ragged, yet quiet wheezing. She heard him trying to keep his pain under control. She knew this kid was tough, tougher than he appeared on the outside. She listened to his silence, and she heard the wails that would never be heard. She heard his fight with his father playing over and over again in his head like the proverbial broken record.

"So, what did he rag about tonight, huh?" Meg asked after a few more seconds of strangled silence, knowing she would get little to no response from Cas. His brain was working much too fast and too hard for him to speak. She recognized his thinking face. She knew Cas felt emotions more than any human being that she knew. She knew it would be awhile before he had pulled himself back together, before he sewed up the wounds and taped the holes. But always he pulled through, always he regained his footing.

"He saw me talking to a boy, and he thought that I was being queer." Cas responded in an incredibly calm and unshaking voice, still refusing to look at Meg. She could only see the top of his head, and the bridge of his nose. He wiped his nose on his arm, and sniffled almost inaudibly. He played with his fingers faster. He squeezed his arms and legs closer to his body, making himself smaller, as if to hide himself from and external entity who was snarling just inches from his face. Seeing her best friend in so much physical and emotional pain made Meg want to cry right alongside him, but she knew she had to keep herself together. For Cas.

"Look up, let me see the cut," Meg ordered shakily, pulling lightly on his bristly chin.

Reluctantly, Cas looked up. Meg always admired Cas's eyes. She had dull, boring brown eyes, in her opinion. Some people even said that they were black. They seemed to have no luster, no emotion. But Cas had eyes that looked like a piece of the summer sky was injected into them. They were wide, they always shone, and they were always carefully observing. They were shining especially now; Meg saw that tears were peering over his bottom eyelids and were threatening to fall over the edge. His eyelashes were damp from blinking back those salty tears. His eyes were bloodshot, and that somehow made his eyes bluer than all of the summer skies combined.

Cas's eye contact was brief; he then looked down again, swallowing hard. He was aware that Meg knew he was crying, but he didn't want to admit it. Boys don't cry, he reminded himself. How many times had he been told this? He had always been a lachrymose kid. His father always yelled at him whenever he cried, even when he had broken his arm when he was younger. Cas knew that Meg wouldn't reprimand him for crying, but he still didn't want to cry in front of her. He swallowed again, and tried to take deep, even breaths.

Meg went over to the sink nearby, throwing the limp, bloody rag into it. Fetching a new one, she drowned it in disinfectant that singed her nose. She padded back over to Cas, who sat huddled on the edge of the sofa, his white shirt scarred with drops of his own blood. His bare toes played with the fuzzy carpet. His battered sneakers lay on the ground nearby. His face was extremely pale, except the rims of his eyes and his nose, which were red. It was a stark contrast to his obsidian hair

Meg crouched down beside him once more "This is gonna sting, Castiel." She said, gently holding his chin. He flinched when he heard his actual name used. He knew Meg only called him Castiel when she worried about him or was trying to get his attention. He nodded, and said "I know." He blinked once, and didn't say anything else.

Meg felt Cas's jaw clench when the disinfectant brushed the gash on his face. He hissed through his clenched teeth. Cas didn't say a thing. He didn't move. He didn't make a sound. But his pain was as clear as the night sky outside. The silence in the room was damaging. The ticking of the clock was magnified tenfold. The silence was so loud, Meg wanted to cover her ears, and whimper in a corner.

"You know it's OK to cry, Cas?" Meg asked in a quiet voice, cleaning the last of the cut. She lowered the rag when Cas was still achingly silent. Quieter than a stalking cat, Cas drew his legs up to his chest, his chin slowly alighting onto his knees. He looked up at Meg, his tear flooded eyes still shining in the lamplight. The misery within them sent a message more powerful than a crowd of angry protesters. Those cerulean pools were the windows into Castiel's crippled soul, and when Meg peered in those windows, she didn't like what she saw.

"…My father always says that boys don't cry, that crying is a sign of weakness." He muttered finally, his voice on the brink of breaking. The more he thought about what he said, the more he trembled. His lips gave a few nearly invisible tremors, tremors more powerful than an earthquake. He blinked, and as he did so, the tears in his eyes lost their balance, and fell over his eyelids. He quickly wiped his face, sniffing again, and jerked his eyes away from Meg. He shuddered, as if he could hear his father castigating him.

Meg felt as though a scaly, clawed monster burst to violent life inside her chest. Ripping at her lungs and heart, it made boiling blood rush to her brain. A serpentine hiss escaped her mouth before she could contain herself. Her brow crinkled, and her round face was etched with ferocious fury. Clenching her fists and jaw alike, she glared at her fists, the cords in her hands knotted tightly. Cas looked up at her, eyeing her apprehensively. He shrank away slightly as he detected anger radiating from Meg in waves, He connection with Meg was so strong, he could feel what she was feeling, even if he wasn't looking at her.

Meg knew how poorly Cas's father treated him, and she disagreed with it wholeheartedly. The man was a beast, on or off the bottle; he harmed his gentle son with his strong, merciless fists, and his vicious words. The boy did nothing to deserve the abuse he was given regularly, nothing at all. And then the man left the boy to wallow in his own blood, sweat, and pleads. How many times had Cas staggered across town to Meg's house, bleeding and broken? Meg had lost count, but she knew that Castiel had the number seared into his brain.

"Yeah? Well fuck your father, Castiel! Look at what he's done to you! Listen to all those nasty things he's said to you! After all of that, you think that bastard deserves to be _listened_ to?!" Meg snarled through her teeth, eyes flashing with brilliant flames of hatred.

Cas chose to remain silent.

Meg tossed the rag into the faraway sink with venom, where it landed with a squishy thud, and sat down beside Cas.

"He said crying is a sign of weakness? Crying isn't a sign of weakness, Clarence! Crying is a sign of the _soul_. Crying means that you are in touch with your heart, and that you realize what is being done to you is wrong. Having contact with your emotions is what keeps you alive; what are we but dried up husks of nothingness without them? Hell, your father has it all wrong! _Not_ crying is a sign of weakness!" Meg hissed, her voice growing louder and angrier with each breath she took. The more she spoke, the more she shook with just barely contained hatred.

"Please don't yell, Meg." Cas sighed.

"I'm not yelling anymore than you're crying." Meg hissed.

"Yes, but all the same. You know I don't like conflict." Cas murmured, wiping at the blood on his shirt. He stared at his thumb as the blood oozed its way into the ridges of his fingerprint. He still resolutely refused to make eye contact with Meg.

Meg sighed in exasperation. "Listen, your father is a bastard. You _know_ he is wrong about everything he says about you. You're not worthless, you're not stupid, you aren't sick, you aren't bad! He is wrong about everything Cas!" Meg said earnestly.

_Not everything,_ Cas thought to himself.

"Castiel, are you hearing what I'm saying?" Meg pressed, squeezing his shoulder to jar him from his thoughts.

"Yes, Meg, I am."

"Good. Don't listen to him. Listen to me. Listen to me when I say this, because what I'm saying is 100 percent true. You are the smartest kid in class. You're the sweetest boy in the whole school. Just because you're a little different, it doesn't mean that you're diseased like you father likes to think. Being different is good! Imagine if we were all alike. How fucking annoying that would be, right?" Meg said, grinning. She dug her fingers harder into his bony shoulder. She felt how tense his muscles were.

The corner of Cas's mouth twitched a bit. His muscles relaxed slightly as Meg massaged them, in an attempt to make him feel better.

"And you aren't worthless, dummy. I need you, and you need to hang on so long as someone needs you, understand?" Meg said firmly, poking Cas's cheek playfully. Cas smiled a little bit, becoming less tense the more Meg spoke. He let his shoulders sag under her touch. He closed his eyes part way as she rubbed his weary shoulders. Sensing that Cas was enjoying the massage, Meg continued for a few moments longer, until Cas had closed his eyes completely.

Meg tugged on Cas's chin, so she could examine the cut that no longer bled. She smiled, and Cas couldn't help but smile as well. He could always leave it to Meg to make him feel better after a fight with his father. She reached up, and kissed his uninjured cheek. If Cas was a cat, he would've purred with content. All he could do was smile until dimples cut his cheeks.

"Love you, Cas." She said, tousling his raven black hair and standing up.

Cas flattened his hair, still smiling with warmth he always felt around Meg. "Love you too." He called quietly into the girl's wake. She was going back into the kitchen, her bare feet barely skimming the linoleum floor. Cas felt as warm as he did when he drank a steaming mug of coffee. Hugging his knees, Cas felt much better. Meg's words were much more convincing than his father's. Meg certainly knew how to maneuver her way around words, manipulating them for her use.

Meg's words whispered in Cas's head. _Crying is a sign of the soul_. Cas didn't believe that people had souls, but it was difficult to believe that whenever he was around Meg. She was one of the most soulful people he knew. She acted like a rough-and-tumble smartass most of the time, but there wasn't a person alive with a bigger heart than Meg.

Castiel's stream of happy thoughts was interrupted when Meg returned, a bandage box and a dry, fluffy rag in her hands. As Meg peeled open one of the bandages, the clock hanging above the fireplace rang out one o'clock Saturday morning. Meg's parents and sister were asleep, and chances were that Cas's family was also asleep or passed out from drinking. Cas knew Meg was tired, but he hadn't known he was almost on the verge of sleep. His eyes blinked deeply. As he listened to the continual ticks of the clock, he felt lethargic. His mouth split into a chasm, and he yawned a quiet yawn. Meg normally didn't put other people's feelings before her own, but Cas was the exception that proved the rule.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me just yet." Meg murmured playfully, patting the cut on Cas's jaw dry. She patted it a little too hard, for a sharp stab of pain jarred Cas awake. He looked, and saw that Meg's eyes were also weighed down by sleep. She bit her lip in the way she always did whenever she was trying to hold back a yawn. He knew that she would make sure that he was taken care of before she even thought of going to bed.

"You're staying here, Clarence." Meg ordered, smoothing the bandage over Cas's jaw, and gave it one last pat, for good luck, she always said. He winced slightly.

"Gabriel will be worried." Cas said, standing. He felt very stiff, and his joints cracked as he moved.

"Well, where else would you be if you aren't home? He's not stupid; he'll know you're here."

"Thank you, Meg." Cas breathed, his chest warm and tingly. It was nice, having a best friend who would throw everything aside and come to his aid. It was great, knowing that there was someone out there would beat down anything that threatened to hurt him. Cas ached to return the thousands of favors Meg did for him, but the chance had never presented itself. He felt so unclean; he felt he was stealing from Meg whenever she took care of him like this. It felt wrong. Everything Cas did felt wrong.

"Shut up, and get some sleep." Meg said, tousling his hair again. She stood on her toes and nearly lifted Cas off his feet when she encased him in a rib-breaking hug. Cas, who wasn't very talented in the area of affection, patted her awkwardly on the back. Social contact terrified Cas, and Meg knew it. Still, Meg made an effort to show affection, much needed affection. Maybe Cas was afraid of affection because he rarely received it.

She broke away, and sauntered towards the wooden staircase. On the third step, she turned, and met Cas's eyes again. He was fiddling with the bandage, still fixed in the same spot. He smiled faintly, waving his long, spindly fingers. As Meg swayed on the third step, she saw just how delicate Castiel really was. Even though he was tall, and had a generous portion of muscle, he was still so fragile.

But he would be alright, just like he always was. Outward appearances could be deceiving.

"'Night, Clarence." She said, continuing up to the fourth, the fifth, and sixth steps. With each step she took, she felt more and more exhaustion.

"Goodnight, Meg." Cas responded quietly as Meg mounted the thirteenth step, and was gone from view. Cas listened, and he heard the faint sound of her door closing softly, almost as softly as the sigh he let out into the world.

Cas bent down, and picked up the bandage wrappers. With the faint smile still fluttering on his mouth, he cleaned up the mess Meg had left behind. Wrappers, rags, and disinfectants were returned to their various places in the kitchen Castiel knew as well as his own. As he put the medicinal things away, Castiel gazed out the window above the sink, transfixed. The stars reflected in his eyes that glimmered like sapphires.

_Crying is a sign of the soul._

He shook his head, and stole over to the couch. Sinking into it, sleep hovered over him. Though he didn't see it, Cas knew it was there. It took the broken boy into its warm arms, and wailed into the night the sorrows the boy would never release. Like an angelic guardian, sleep sat vigil over him, protecting him from any harm the world could throw at him. As it watched, Castiel dreamed empty dreams.


	2. The Touch of a Mother Never Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel wakes up in the Masters household, and discovers the cons of wearing contacts.

"Would you look at him? Why would anyone want to hurt such a sweet boy?" asked an upset voice, one that dripped with concern and sorrow. It was a voice that had seen the stains of the world, and was shaking its head in mounting disbelief and disgust. It was a voice that itched to aid, but could do nothing about it; the helplessness in it made the world cringe.

"That bastard that calls himself his father, that's who, Mom." Snapped the response. There was a low growl and a faint trickle of vile curses audible only to those who were listening closely.

"Lord knows I've called the police on that man! But did anything come of it? No, of course not! The legal system in this country is something I worry about." There was a sound of someone wringing hands together, and the clucking of a tongue. The fuzzy carpet grumped as feet fidgeted.

"Yeah, it's going to the dogs alright."

Castiel was awake, but he certainly didn't want to be. His brain was delirious, and his muscles felt like jello. Just the thought of moving them made them cry out in despair. He kept his eyes shut, willing for sleep to come back. But the entity was gone. He just wanted to lie there on that couch for the rest of eternity, even though his neck ached and his limbs were far too long for it. The more he lay there, the more comfortable the couch got. The cushions seemed to get softer, the sofa itself seemed to enlarge to accommodate his long body, and the pillows seemed to get plumper. He felt like a wraith with acidic fingers was rubbing his bare eyeballs, murmuring gleefully through his groans. His jaw growled in pain. Squeezing his eyes tighter, Castiel rolled over, curling up into a ball. He felt a wave of pity radiate from two people above.

"Look at him, he didn't even put a blanket on himself." Said the voice Castiel recognized as Meg's mother. Suddenly, one of the many afghans that littered the house parachuted onto Cas's aching body. With a breeze, it melted around him, and cuddled him lovingly. Cas's mouth twitched into a faint smile, and he drew it nearer, begging on bent knees for sleep to come. He could feel people staring at him, and he was afraid he was blushing. He buried his face in his pillow, warmth billowing throughout his body.

"Wake him up soon, honey. Breakfast is almost ready, and I imagine he's hungry. That man probably didn't feed him a damn crumb last night. No wonder he's so thin." Meg's mother said, and Cas heard her walking back into the kitchen, the linoleum whispering as her feet brushed it. The chatter of pans and pots, the whispering gossip of a tea kettle, and the sizzling cackles of bacon kept jarring Cas from sleep. He wondered what time it was. The ever present ticking of the clock told him nothing except that time raged on.

Pulling the blanket closer to himself, Cas focused on counting sheep, a method that usually worked for him. As cliché as it was for everyone else, it put Cas out within minutes. There was something about sheep that made him sleepy. Perhaps it was the feel of wool. It was warm, and it was what this afghan was made of. Perhaps math just made him tired.

On his 134th sheep, when he was just beginning to drift back into his dreams, Cas yelped when a crushing weight from the sky suddenly fell into his side. The sheep in his mind squealed and scattered. Squirming onto his back, Cas looked about, his eyes focusing with difficulty in the bright sunlight gushing through the window. Eyes bleary and burning, Cas saw the grinning face of Meg close to his own. She was sitting on his stomach, legs folded, perusing a magazine. She booped his nose, and he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning in displeasure.

"Good morning, Clarence!" She sang out, burying her nose back into her magazine. She was an alarm clock that never broke, but was arguably pretty painful to use. As if she wasn't crushing Cas's guts, Meg casually turned the page of her magazine. Cas clearly heard the fresh crackle as the new pages bent under Meg's fingers.

"Good morning…?" He asked, rubbing his eyes, removing any crust. With a start, he realized that "You left your contacts in Clarence. Your eyes are all dry and bloodshot." Meg said. She looked away from her magazine, reached over, and opened the drawer that was attached to the side table. The drawer yawned, and Meg rooted about inside it. Cas could hear her moving things about, but he couldn't move, therefore he couldn't see what she was doing. A few seconds later, she sat up, and tossed him some eye care objects; among them was a contacts case, some contacts juice, and some eye drops.

Cas hissed. "I'm going to have to stop wearing them if I keep leaving them in like this." He said, rubbing his temples to soothe the clamoring of a migraine that was hitting his head like an overly enthusiastic prospector.

The contacts objects bouncing off his chest after an ill-timed reflex, Cas acknowledged just how much his eyes burned. Salty tears tried their hardest to soothe them, but they only made things worse. Fumbling with the objects, Cas began to squirt juice into the little case.

Just as Cas began to pull out his contacts, Meg's mother bustled in. Cas never had a mother, so Mrs. Masters was the first person to pop into his mind's eye whenever anyone said the word 'Mom'. Meg was Mrs. Masters in miniature. They both had dark hair, dark eyes, round faces and had voices that sounded nearly alike. Mrs. Masters was a fierce woman who wasn't afraid to tell her children off, but she never said anything close to what Cas's father said to him. She was a brilliant cook, and had a way with waffles.

Mrs. Masters had been essential in Cas's upbringing. It was she who drove him to the hospital when he had broken his arm. She was the one who took him shopping for his first ever school supplies, back in first grade. It was she who gave him the birds and the bees talk. (Her explanation was better and less awkward than Gabriel's). She was the one who provided a warm home for Cas. Cas imagined he loved her as much as he would his own mother, but he had no one to compare to.

"'Morning, Cassie dear. How are you feeling? Meg told me everything that happened. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; your father is a distasteful man, and I'd love to get a hold of him and tell him my mind!" She crooned, which escalated into a hateful snarl alarmingly fast. She and her daughter shared an opinion of Cas's father. Meg often gave Cas detailed descriptions on what she would do to Cas's father if laws meant nothing in the world. Such descriptions made Cas inwardly thankful that laws did in fact mean a lot in the world, for if they didn't mean anything, many people would be dead at Meg's hands.

"I'm better now, thanks." Cas replied, pulling his eyes open, one after the other, urging the eye drops to swan dive into his dry eyes. Blinking several times, he looked around. Cas was extremely nearsighted; Meg and her mother were merely blurs in front of him. His eyes groaned as they laid back in the hot tub of eye drops.

"Breakfast is almost ready dear." Mrs. Master's said, pressing his black rimmed glasses into his right hand, stroking his hair flat with her other hand. Gratefully, he smiled and put the glasses on. His vision was instantly clear, as if someone had wiped it clean with a rag. He could read the cover of Meg's magazine ( _Time_ ), and he could see the thin layer of flour on Mrs. Master's hands. He could see the pattern of the sofa pressed into his skin, and he watched the second hand on the clock ticking above the fireplace. A fire raged within, spitting sparks and talking loudly. Mrs. Masters smiled at him.

"Thanks Mrs. Masters." He said in his soft voice. He cracked his neck, wincing as he rotated his head. His neck felt bruised, and his eye was swollen from pressing into the pillow for too long. If he traced his face with his fingers, the sofa's pattern left a mark that could be felt.

"You're getting old, Clarence." Meg said, slowly turning her page. Her eyes darted back and forth like a baseball player stuck between bases.

"I'm only a month older than you, Meg." Cas pointed out, trying to sit up, but she refused to budge. He lay back, rubbing his prickly stubble. He bared his teeth in a fatigued yawn. Sniffing, he looked at Meg, who was still absorbed in her magazine. Her fingers were drumming against his chest absently, making his skin tickle. He gently crushed her fingers to stop them from tickling him, and their fingers involuntarily intertwined. Cas rubbed his cheek, waiting patiently for Meg to get up. The lower half of his body was falling asleep.

"Yeah…" Meg said, trailing off. She wasn't paying any attention, swinging her hand back and forth; Cas mimicked her.

"Meg, get off of him. Go wake up your sister." Mrs. Masters ordered from the kitchen doorway, he hands on her hips. She disappeared as a timer from within the steamy room yelped.

"She can go wake herself up." Meg hissed, pulling herself off Cas, taking her hand back, and tramping towards the staircase. Cas let out his breath in a huff. It was hard to breathe when Meg sat on him like that. Standing up, cracking his spine, his fingers, his toes, whatever could be cracked, Castiel folded the afghan. Everything below his stomach was being pricked by pins and needled, and groaned as they woke up. Straightening the pillow, and putting the eye care objects back in the side table drawer, Cas made his way into the kitchen, straightening anything that needed to be straightened. His vision shook as he took his first tottering steps. Rubbing his face and tousling his own hair, Cas blinked, the early morning dizziness fading. Rubbing his temple, the dizziness knew that it was dismissed, and left entirely. His bare feet cringed at how cold the linoleum was.

"Stop cleaning Cassie. Come and eat, you look dead on your feet." Mrs. Masters called, waving him into the kitchen. No one besides Mrs. Masters called him Cassie. He quite liked it.

As soon as he entered, he began setting the table, folding napkins into neat triangles. Cleaning things made Cas feel calm. Arranging objects into some kind of order made contentment steal over him. The texture of the napkins felt good beneath his fingers.

Mrs. Masters turned, and saw the boy working yet again. He looked as though he would collapse of exhaustion, but here he was, doing chores. She couldn't help but smile. She saw how he was quiet and methodic while he worked, as if he had done this a thousand times before. It seemed that whenever he could, Castiel was always cleaning, straightening, or fixing something. He didn't like keeping still, as if he needed to focus on something so his mind wouldn't wander to dark places. All of her children hated chores with a passion. Castiel seemed to enjoy any kind of work.

"Cassie, honey, there's no need for that! I'll get it." Mrs. Masters said, laughing aloud and kissing the boy on his pale cheek. She pulled the silverware out of his reach.

"That's OK. I like helping." He said softly, smiling a little, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He folded the last napkin, and began laying silverware (which was not out of his reach) carefully next to the plates.

Mrs. Masters really liked Castiel. He was very quiet, but he was a good kind of quiet. Whenever she spoke, he listened very closely. His eyes were rapt with attention, and he always thought carefully before responding to her questions. There was no doubt that he was very educated; his vocabulary was superb, and he always spoke in a scholarly way. He had a pale face with a sharp jaw, but it was covered in scars from past battles. But his eyes didn't show it. Though they were burdened with a terrible past, Castiel's blue eyes were overflowing with kindness and understanding.

The boy took care of himself. He wasn't like other boys his age that she new. Most of the times his stark black hair was groomed neatly with a comb. He was either clean-shaven or had a dusting of stubble. He was always clean, and he brushed his teeth too. Mrs. Masters was a teacher, and she knew some boys who she wished were more like Castiel when it came to personal hygiene. If it weren't for the obvious signs of abuse, one could guess that Castiel came from a good home.

"How is your cut, sweetie?" Mrs. Masters asked, scraping eggs onto a large platter with a spatula. She squinted at the bandage that bloomed like a flower on Cas's face.

"It twinges a little, but I'm sure I'll be alright." Cas replied, finishing with the silverware. He trotted over to the high cupboard to the right of the sink, and began pulling out cups.

"I'll redress it after breakfast." Meg said, sauntering into the kitchen with a mess for hair. Hair like Meg's made Cas grateful for having short hair that didn't tangle easily.

Meg sat down at her spot at the table, and watched Castiel pour drinks. He had a small smile on his mouth, but his eyes were morose. Undoubtedly, he was dreading going home. Meg would try to get him to stay as long as he could. She hated to see him go back to that hellhole. She would keep him here like a brother if she could. Unfortunately, laws meant a lot in the world.

"'Morning everybody. Hi, Castiel."

Ruby, Meg's younger sister, had entered the room. She too had the dark hair and dark eyes that ran in the Master's family. Her hair was messier than Meg's, if that was possible. She went to Truman Junior High, so Castiel didn't see her as much as he saw Meg. Still, the two were close. Castiel practically was the only son in the Masters household, he was around so often. In fact, when Ruby was younger, she had burst into a fit of tears when she was told that Cas wasn't actually her brother. The only time she cried like that was when she discovered Santa wasn't real.

"Alright, eat up everyone!" Mrs. Masters called, setting plates of food on the table. Steam spiraled into the air like the Aurora Borealis. Cas fluttered around the table, placing various drinks in front of various people. Ruby took orange juice. Mrs. Masters took tea, and Meg took coffee. Cas always drank whatever milk was in the fridge, but he never took chocolate milk. He was under Ruby's strict direction not to.

"Bless you, Clarence," Meg said happily as Cas placed a mug of coffee in front of her, smiling with the open-mouthed smile she had. She reached behind her to tousle his hair once more, but he dodged out of the way, grinning. With his glass of milk cupped in his hands, he sat down in his spot next to Meg. He took a sip, the liquid pleasurably cold in his dry mouth.

"Cassie, do you have work today? You can stay as long as you want to, honey." Mrs. Masters said after spooning herself some of the scrambled eggs, eggs that Meg was practically inhaling. She and her sister were eating so quickly, one could assume that the apocalypse was about to occur. Cas never ate fast; his stomach protested sharply whenever he ate a large amount of food in a short period of time.

Castiel served himself some of the eggs and a waffle, but he didn't eat. "I do, at twelve." He said, turning his wrist and checking his watch. He sighed in relief when he realized it was only quarter to eleven. Once relieved, he began to eat. He hadn't noticed just how ravenous he was. Mrs. Masters was right; Castiel hadn't eaten a thing since lunch at school yesterday. His stomach was empty and voluminous, and the wolves within howled.

Food was eaten in a blissful silence. Ruby and Meg were too busy focusing on what they were going to eat next. Castiel was sitting in his usual silence, a thoughtful expression tacked to his face. Mrs. Masters was observing Castiel's eyes. They were faraway, and they grew more and more pained the longer he sat there. He swallowed his food, and turned his eyes to his plate.

"Have you any schoolwork to do, Meg?" Mrs. Masters asked, breaking the silence and Castiel's train of thought. Mrs. Masters didn't exactly enjoy long periods of silence.

"No. I already did that." Meg said, upset that her eating was interrupted. Meg was the kind of person who could eat enough for three, but never gained weight. The wolves in her stomach could eat for as long as they pleased, and never feel nauseous. Castiel was like that too; he could eat one of Mrs. Masters' three course dinners with triple helpings of everything, and he would still be thinner than a blade of grass. However, he had to eat it slowly to avoid sickness. It was as if the teen wasn't hungering for food; it seemed that he was yearning for something else, and that he was being starved of it. It was as if his hunger didn't come merely from his body; it also came from his soul.

Castiel scratched at his bandage. His skin beneath was beginning to itch. He stopped scratching when Meg shot him some eye daggers. She was still intimidating, even though she was a few heads smaller than him, and her cheeks were puffed out, full of eggs. He hastily removed his hand, his eyes darting to his plate.

As Cas resisted the urge to scratch, his thoughts wandered over to school he would have to attend on Monday. Cas did well in school. He very much enjoyed school, but school didn't enjoy him. Cas was not popular, but he didn't exactly mind. Sure, people didn't talk to him. Sure, people disregarded him in hallways and always walked into him, but as long as he had Meg there, he was fine. Cas had realized that when one was in high school, one only needed at least one true friend to get by. That was all. One person to do everything with, tell everything to, and complain about everything with. That's all he needed, and that's all he had. He was content.

But, Cas didn't like the stares. He came to school bearing the scars of domestic battles, and people knew it. He made up stories for them to believe, but no one actually believed him. He filled their cups with lies, and they only pretended to take a sip. It was an open secret that Castiel Novak was the brunt of his father's rage. His arms, face, and neck were spider webbed with knobby white scars that told his story better than any text ever could. Everyone looked with eyes full of pity or disgust. Cas hated both.

Still thinking about school, Cas began to help clear the table. He scooped up plates and cups, placing them in the sink where Meg had begun to wash them. The wolves were all lying down together, digesting. He watched the soap bubbles swirl in circles, until they went down the drain.

Meg shook her hands to free them of water, spraying Cas with droplet of dishwater. Whatever remained, she wiped on Ruby's shirt, and stuffed the sponge into her hands, ignoring her whines. Meg stopped Cas from going back to the table by pushing her palms against his chest.

"Come on, let me redress that cut." She ordered, head down as she pushed harder. Cas dug his feet into the floor, bracing himself against Meg's hands.

"I can do it myself, you know." Cas reminded her, removing her hands. How many times had he done it? How many miles of bandages had he used, how many tons of disinfectant had he applied, how many stitches had he gotten? Countless, it seemed. He used more bandages in a year than a hospital did in ten. It seemed that the Masters' first aid kit wasn't meant for them: it was destined for Castiel.

"Shut up, you never put your bandages on right. It bothers the hell out of me." Meg hissed, gingerly peeling off the old bandage after Cas sat on the counter by the sink, clearing away the teetering mountains of plates. He placed his elbows on his knees, and placed his chin on his knuckles. His mind in an alternative universe, Meg tore off the last of the bandage. He barely even winced anymore. The tear of a bandage was as natural as breathing to him now.

He was jarred out of his daydreams when a hand wiped at the cut with yet another dose of disinfectant. But he sensed right away that this hand was different. He looked up, and saw Mrs. Masters cleaning his wound. Her face was pity personified, and he didn't like it. Cas didn't like being pitied. Meg was washing dishes again, reaching for dirty dishes behind Cas. She swatted at Ruby as she wiped her hands on Meg's arms and face.

"Why does he do this to me?" Cas blurted out, his mouth working faster than his mind. Cas always measured his words, but this time he didn't. The words flew out of his mouth faster than a blink of his eye. He didn't know what caused him to open up so quickly and suddenly, but he did. He was genuinely confused. Tendrils of confusion slithered out of his soul, and stroked his brain seductively, until he vomited those words.

"Don't ask me to comprehend the minds of the wicked. Their minds work in sick ways." Meg hissed, throwing the sponge at Ruby's retreating back.

Mrs. Master gently patted the cut dry. She saw just how mournful Cas was. Mournful was an expression that fit his face. Maybe it was because it was so scarred, maybe it was because everyone in the room felt his sorrow, sorrow that leeched the happiness out of the boy. But it fit his features like a puzzle piece fit a jigsaw. He seemed to shrink into a child before her very eyes. With downcast eyes, he asked Meg and her mother a question he had been asking himself for as long as his memory allowed.

_Why?_

Mrs. Masters pursed her lips, shifting her weight from one hip to another as she raced to figure out what to say to him. Finally, taking a tentative breath, she spoke. "I don't know Cassie. He is sick, as Meg says. But that doesn't give him an excuse to hit you, or your brothers, or anyone." She said softly, peeling a fresh bandage out of its wrapper.

"But none of this is your fault, Castiel. Yes, that's cliché, but there are reasons why that's cliché. It's because it's true." Mrs. Masters said, smoothing the bandage over Cas's jaw as if she were tending to an infant. She rested her hand on Cas's bristly cheek, her thumb combing the stubble.

Cas leaned into the touch, the touch of a mother. He had never had that before, and he enjoyed it immensely. He blinked, and was both touched and confused as Mrs. Masters wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him both firmly and gently, both happily and sadly.

He felt invisible hands clamp his throat and his heart, squeezing them until a deluge of helpless misery exploded out of them. A tiny whimper burst free of his lips, and his entire frame was overwhelmed with sobs. Like a disease, tears blinded Cas's vision once more. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came.

Hugging her back, one final tear leaked out of his eye. A sob broke free from the rest, and sprinted off into the cheerful morning, the morning that couldn't pierce through Cas's anguish. Castiel never wanted a mother more than he did in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers! Here is Chapter 2! So, what do you think so far? Any questions? Comments? Requests? I have a plot all laid out, but I can try to add minor details into the story! Feel free to ask me anything you want. I'd be so happy to hear from you! Even if you just want to say hello, go right ahead. I'll say hello back. I don't bite, I promise.


	3. Lesson of Bigotry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel tries to read upside down, Meg displays her talent for opening lockers without using a combination, and two becomes three.

Meg and Cas were in the same grade. Both were tenth graders that attended Truman High School. They roamed the same hallways, they learned the same things. They ate together, and they suffered through vicious tests and essays together. It was a blessing from some entity higher up to Castiel; without Meg, he only had a few people who he actually talked to, and that was only to give them consent to use his pencil sharpener.

However, that was soon to change.

Cas lived on the far east side of town with his father and his brothers Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel. All three of his older brothers were out of high school, through different ways. Michael and Gabriel had both graduated with superb grades; Lucifer, on the other hand, had been expelled from school and was asked never to return. He and his gang of malicious cronies strolled through the school with a reputation that hung in the air like the stench of rotted flesh. They had been blamed (and rightly so) for a myriad of crimes: The vandalism on the school grounds, the many false fire drills, scuffles in the hallway, full-blown brawls at lunchtimes, and many more, each escalating in seriousness. The worst, however, had been the stabbing of a young girl. No one really knew the identities of the offenders, but the blame had been pinned on Lucifer and his motley comrades. The girl had survived, but Lucifer and his friends suffered mass expulsion.

Needless to say, Castiel walked to school alone. He quite enjoyed his walks to school. He took the same route everyday. Some people would find that to be dull, but Cas felt safe when everything was in order. Deviations from his routine frightened him. It caused a balloon to swell in his chest, and his lungs felt very tight. It soothed him to see the same cracked birdbath in the lawn of the house up the street. It was nice to see the same dented trashcans in the alley he walked up every day. When he passed the familiar tree with crooked branches from which squirrels would scold him, Cas felt peaceful, a placid smile on his lips.

Meg lived on the far west side of town with her father, mother, and her seventh grade sister, Ruby. Ruby went to the Truman Junior High School, which stood a few blocks from the Masters household. Ruby would wait for Meg to finish drinking nearly a whole pot of coffee, and the two would set out. They would cross the grassy lawns, where Meg would see to it that her sister entered the safely enclosed grounds of the school. She would then proceed to Truman High. She leapt over fences, cut through alleys, and crossed the grounds of the town library. She barked at dogs that growled at her through chain linked fences, and waved at drivers that honked their horns angrily when she jaywalked across the street, ignoring the traffic lights. She dismissed the sidewalk up to the school, and strolled over the lawns. Once in the school grounds, she would meet Cas.

If one were to look, Cas could be seen sitting beneath an oak tree that looked to be centuries old, at least. It looked as though an angel had caressed that ground, sprinkled it with its powdery grace, and then the tree had sprang forth in a burst of pure creation. It was immense; sunshine and rain alike weaved its way through the majestic branches. Moss covered the ancient, wrinkled skin of the tree. Cas would either have a book sprawled on his lap, his finger stroking it as he marked his place, or have a drawing pad sleeping on his knees while he massaged it with a pencil point. He drew whatever came to his mind, but he mainly sketched the tree. The tree whispered timeworn tales to Castiel whenever the breeze stirred the leaves and the branches, its voice sounding like the snap of twigs. Cas would smile, one of the only times during the day he seemed content enough to just lie still.

Once Meg interrupted the tree's tale, she and Castiel would trudge into the building, where they would learn their way through the History, English, and Phys. Ed/ Health classes they had together. After that came lunch, where Meg would recover from gym (she didn't exactly enjoy exercise), and Cas would study. However, The pair would engage in thumb or arm wrestling matches, as the room was noisy and not conducive to studying. After lunch, Cas and Meg would go their separate ways for a while. Cas was more advanced when it came to math and science than Meg. Castiel then took art, whereas Meg had a study hall (She usually came in to bother Cas. Don, the teacher, didn't mind.) After that, the two finished the day with Latin Two. They then would walk back to the tree that marked the start of their day, and then depart; Castiel would walk straight to work, Meg would pick up Ruby, then she would go to work herself.

Meg and Castiel had that routine nailed down for two years now, and they liked it, Cas in particular. He always took the same route to his classes, otherwise he would quickly get confused. He liked that each of his classes were 47 minutes long. He was grateful that the bell rang the same number of times, in the exact same pitch. When the same people walked by at the same time each day, he was happy. He liked keeping neat binders, notebooks, and lockers. He grew uncomfortable swiftly if things were chaotic. That was going to change, little did he know.

It happened before school started, the Monday after Cas's night at the Masters' house.

It was a morning cloaked in a murky sky. The sun had sheltered beneath the sheets and blankets that day. There was a slight breeze in the air; it was strong enough to get the tree to talk to Cas again, and he felt peaceful for the first time in a few days. Putting a thumb in his book to mark his place, Cas was content to close his eyes and listen to the breeze, the chatter of teens, and the crunch of gravel beneath footsteps. He always got to school at least twenty minutes early. Sitting under the tree was one of his favorite parts of the day. He rested his head against the aged bark, and breathed through his nostrils the earthy scent of the mighty oak.

As he listened to life bustling by him, he heard something he had never heard before. Normally, the air was laced with conversation, the rattling of bikes, and the growls of cars. Occasionally, rain pattered or snow drifted. Other times, the wind whistled through the tree, as it was doing now. But this noise was something that tickled his ears for the first time. It was a kind of purring, but not the kind of purr of a contented feline. No, it was not natural. It was something manmade. Cas's heart skipped a beat when he heard it. Opening his blue eyes and lifting his head, he peered around. The purring was growing louder; it was definitely drawing nearer. As soon as Cas identified the noise, he saw its source.

The purring was coming from a contented black car. It moved as though it was hovering just an inch from the ground. The first thing Cas thought of was a hawk that sailed through the open skies, the sharp eyes seeing everything and missing nothing. It shone, even though there wasn't any sun to cause reflection. Cas had never seen anything like it before. Sure, he'd seen cars before, but nothing like this one. This one purred beautifully, but it was still terrifying to look at. It was as if a black cat with bloodied claws, fangs, and muzzle was glowering at you, but was also rumbling happily. It was long, sleek, and stalked up the black street, the black street that looked grey by comparison. As Cas listened harder, he heard a blaring waterfall of Led Zeppelin. It was coming from the car that purred like a cat. The engine of that car roared as it turned the corner, into the school's parking lot. The roar of the engine just barely muffled the music that poured through the windows like a colorful liquid.

Enthralled, Cas continued to watch that car. It held him spellbound. His head had tilted to the side, and his mouth had been pushed down by some invisible entity.

As if gutted, the car stopped purring. It had glided into an empty parking space, and it was gleaming brighter in the sunlight that was peeking through the cloud cover. Cas and the sun both stared with great interest at this new car.

Holding up his book so it didn't look like he was being weird, he gave off the illusion that he was reading. He peered over the edge to keep observing the car. He shoved his glasses up on his nose quickly as to not lose sight of this new car and new person who was now coming out of the car. This was far off his beaten path, but he wasn't as bothered as normally would have been, oddly enough. This was _interesting_. 

The first thing Cas noticed was that the teen who exited the driver's seat was tall. Almost ridiculously tall. Cas was pretty tall, but this kid was taller. He would have towered over Cas if he had the courage to go near. Cas was a good thirty feet away from him, but he felt terrified anyway. He felt like tendrils of power was slithering towards him from the stranger, and poking him aggressively in the chest. Even with his glasses on, he couldn't make out the stranger's face. But Cas found that he wasn't breathing. He felt like he was offending the stranger if he moved, blinked, or breathed.

The door creaked and slammed shut. The teen strolled around his beautiful car, and pulled open the trunk, where he was partially hidden from view. Already Cas had noticed that he was a bit bowlegged and he walked with the confidence of a wolf. He was already detecting an aura of superiority and strength. Cas could see the glint of his eyes, and it was something beautiful and terrifying to behold. Cas drew his limbs closer to his body, and brought his book closer to his face. He breathed in the scent of pulped trees and sweaty hands that radiated from the book. He reached out, and dragged his backpack closer to him. If he was a turtle, he would have drawn himself inside his shell.

Cautiously, he peered over the rim of his book again. He jumped when the stranger slammed the trunk shut with surprising force. Cas dropped his book, his hands trembling. It hit the ground with an annoyed squall, and flopped shut, spitting out a cloud of powdery dirt. Cas tried not to sneeze as the particles infiltrated his nose. Dust covered and sweaty, he scrambled to pick up the book again, trying not to be noticed.

His eyes flickered over to the stranger, and his stomach lurched unpleasantly when he saw the stranger's stare gorging into him. Cas pretended to be absorbed in his reading, just now noticing that his book had been upside down. He felt a sudden blush spread right down to his chest. It was like having boiling water injected into his veins. Cas had never been looked at like that in his life. The stranger had looked at him as if he had inspired deep curiosity and awe into him. It was so uncomfortable, but Cas found himself longing for another look.

He glanced over his now right side up book once more. The stranger wasn't looking at him anymore; he was shouldering a duffel that looked as though it had seen far better days. It seemed to wheeze wearily as the teen tossed it casually over his shoulder.

Cas didn't blink once.

His stomach lurched again, harder this time, when he heard gravel being crunched under boots. His heart was imitating a butterfly's wing beats, and his fingers were twitching like they always did when he was nervous. He didn't look up. He didn't want to be caught staring at a stranger with his eyes huge and jaw agape. He stared intently at the first paragraph of his page, reading the first sentence but not grasping what it was trying to say.

"Why are you blushing?"

Cas dropped his book again, his blood draining from his face as if someone had pulled the stopper out of a tub.

Meg was staring down at him quizzically, her hands on her backpack's shoulder straps. Her bottom lip was protruding out, and her eyebrow was aiming to brush her hairline. Cas peered over his book for a final time. The stranger had vanished like a ghost. He saw that Meg had on boots, and it wasn't the stranger's boots that he had heard. Was the stranger even wearing boots? He glanced up at Meg, who was looking alarmingly suspicious as another blush blossomed on his face. It was one thing to not be noticed by the stranger, but it was another to be caught staring by Meg. Her mind could connect things that looked as though they could never be connected. That was what she was doing now; connecting things that were probably so easily connected.

"Me? I'm not blushing." Cas stammered, clamoring to his feet, gripping his book tightly with his hands so Meg wouldn't notice how much they were shaking. He turned a shade darker the more she peered into his face. He saw that car in the corner of his eye, and he felt all the blood running away from his face. He smiled a little bit, to make himself seemingly innocent.

Meg still looked suspicious. "Yeah, well, you were a second ago; now you're whiter than a parsnip."

She handed him his backpack. Cas began to wonder is 'parsnip' was the best comparison to use, but Meg interrupted his thoughts.

"You sure are jumpy this morning, Clarence." Meg observed, as she waited for Cas to put his backpack over his shoulders. Admittedly, this was taking a while, as Cas kept casting glances towards the parking lot. He had lost sight of the stranger, and the car wasn't giving him any hints. He heard another set of boots crunching on gravel. He felt another blush torching his cheeks. He shouldered the backpack completely, and he marched Meg towards the door, not daring to look back. The boot steps stalked them over grass and over concrete. The sounds of those steps was like sound of a malicious cackle.

"How's your cut?" Meg asked conversationally as they approached the wide doors that sat like an angler fish, waiting for them, the little fish, to enter its jaws.

"Much better, thanks to you. We don't have any bandages at my house." Castiel said, walking ahead to open the door for Meg. It was deep in Castiel's nature to do such things. Meg smiled in response. It was true; his cut did feel a lot better. The only problem was that itched, and he had a mad urge to rip off the bandage and scratch until his fingers bled, but fortunately, he had self control.

Cas was about to go ahead into the hallways with Meg when he heard the ever present boot steps pick up the pace. Instinctively, Cas peered over his shoulder, holding the door open longer.

When he did so, it happened.

Castiel stared up full into the face of the stranger for the first time. He froze, eyes huge in his skull. His heart burst into an irregular jig. Butterflies in his stomach danced to the loud, jazzy music resonating from his brain that stifled all his thoughts. His lungs had put up a 'gone fishing' sign, and his windpipe huddled in on itself as if chilled, causing Cas to rasp raggedly. He inhaled sharply, swallowing quickly. He almost lost his grip on the door, but he did lose his grip on the book. When it fell to the floor, Cas did not break eye contact with that stranger. His ears had turned the 'open' sign to 'closed'.

That stunning stranger, whose eyes held that poor, pale teen in a trance for the first time, just smiled. His grin looked like the bared teeth of a lion.

Cas looked at that face hungrily, gleaning all the details that he could. Good thing too, because that face disappeared when it bent down to retrieve his book.

The stranger crossed the school's threshold, holding the book and scanning the cover. His eyes were large, and looked as though they had too much to carry. In other words, they looked almost exactly like Castiel's eyes. Those viridian crystals were scarred. Cas wasn't breathing again. He wasn't blinking, His heart wasn't beating. His eyes were devouring the stranger.

_"Slaughterhouse Five!"_ Said the stranger, grinning the cheekiest and toothiest grin Cas had ever seen. His voice was deep and captivating. It rumbled almost just like his car did. His voice sounded just like that contented car, and Cas found that to be confusing. He felt very faint.

How could his eyes wander to girls when they could wander on this?

Meg coughed a tiny cough, reminding Cas to speak.

"Um…Yeah, Vonnegut." Cas said stupidly, finally letting go of the door. His hand hurt when he let go, he had been holding it that hard. He swallowed again, blinking his eyes several times.

The stranger's grin got even toothier, if that was possible. He lifted his gaze from the book, and stared right into Cas. They flickered up and down Cas's entire body, and then they studied his eyes. It was then Cas realized that his heart could actually cease functioning, for his chest felt quite empty. He hastily pushed his glasses up his nose, and his heart jumped back into action, rapidly.

"Nice to know that there's someone reading the good stuff." Said the stranger when Cas failed to speak anymore. Stuffing the book into Cas's trembling hands, he hefted the duffle, and strolled down the hallway. Cas actually squeaked when the stranger tossed them a careless wink. His head swiveled as he took in his environment, and Cas didn't move, eyes still unblinking. Soon, the crowd ate the stranger, and he was lost from view.

"Clarence? Who was that?! Did he just wink at me?!" Meg asked, unzipping his bag and putting the Vonnegut into it, among his notebooks and binders. Her eyes were huge, and she too was searching for the stranger. She seemed happier than Cas. Cas was still terrified. Her open-mouthed grin was tacked on her lips. She looked like a little fairy with pink paint on a brush had swiped at her cheek; she was blushing as much as Cas.

"I have no idea." Cas breathed, scratching at his bandage absently as Meg zippered the bag up again. He stood on the tips of his toes to try an locate the stranger. It was pointless; the owner of that magnificent car was long gone.

They started down a different hallways than the stranger. It was there Meg felt at liberty to talk about the stranger without fear of being overheard.

_"Did you see his car?!_ It was a '67 _Impala!_ Cas, do you even…" Meg said, launching into a stream of chatter. She didn't know that Cas wasn't listening. Cas was faraway in a land of daydreams. His heart was pounding, as if making up for all the skipped beats. He had gleaned such an image in his mind.

The most noticeable thing about the stranger's face was his eyes. Cas had never seen a pair like it. They were half closed, and cool. Even though they seemed to be on the brink of closing, the stranger was scraping up every detail around him. Every motion, every exit, any danger; the stranger saw it all. It was as if grass shot with different shades of green had sprouted in the stranger's eyes; his eyes were the deepest shade of green, a green that made Cas wobble where he stood. They had a piercing stare that frightened Cas, but made him feel secure at the same time. It was a confusing flurry of emotions that Cas was feeling.

The stranger had constellations of freckles on his tan cheeks. Cas felt like he could play connect-the-dots on those freckles for all of eternity, and never be bored. His pink lips curled into that cheeky grin that Cas wouldn't mind seeing again. Just as his eyes were sharp, the stranger's teeth were white and also a bit unnaturally sharp.

His hair was brownish blonde, and was spiky. It flowed over his head like white water rapids. Cas could almost see such rapids on his scalp. Bristles had begun to spring from the stranger's face, around his mouth, on his cheeks, and in the dimples that appeared when he smiled. Cas knew he wasn't breathing, and it felt good not to do so.

The stranger even had- "Clarence, are you listening to me? Where are you going?" Meg asked, seizing Cas from his dream world and thrusting him back into reality as he whined with protest. Blinking, he realized that he had walked straight past his locker. Meg had stopped, and was squinting at him watchfully, her mouth half open. Her eyebrow rose as he stumbled back, and began to pry open his locker.

He didn't say anything as he put in his combination. Meg opened her locker in one deft movement of the wrist (she had jammed her locker, that way she didn't need to use a combo). Tossing books about, dropping notebooks and crumpling up papers, she kept eyeing Cas. She had an inkling that Cas was a bit different. Meg was a very accepting person. As long as you were nice to her and people she loved, she would be friendly to you. Cas was nice to her, so she was nice to him, no matter what life choices he made. She only wished some people were more accepting of Cas. All he wanted was to read, write, draw, sing, and be happy. No one wanted to indulge.

Meg couldn't see why. The people in the world were all taught seemingly one ruthless lesson. It was the wrong lesson. The lesson teaching people to harm those who were different from themselves. To hurt the eccentric. To injure those who didn't conform to the rules that had been set, rules that were impossible for some people to follow. Hurting those who lay awake at night, fearing discrimination was 'acceptable'. The abusers didn't know anything about the abused. They didn't know the tear stained nights. They didn't know the thoughts that pestered them day in and day out. They weren't aware of the mortal fear the abused swam in constantly. They didn't know anything. They were just brainwashed to destroy the different. They all had been taught a terrible lesson: the lesson of bigotry. It was a lesson that each one of them had been taught, but too few didn't listen to. Meg was one of those few. She felt very strongly about the topic. Meg was nice to people who were nice to people she loved.

She wasn't nice to very many people.

"Who _was_ that?!" Meg breathed again, stuffing books into her bag and slamming her locker shut with a reverberating thud.

"I haven't figured that out since the last time you asked me that." Cas said calmly, zipping his bag up slowly, shutting his locker softly. He looked at Meg, and he seemed as normal as ever. He pushed his glasses up his nose once more, and hefted his bag.

They set off towards their History class, chattering excitedly about the stranger. He was certainly a new kid. That much was obvious. Meg was certain that he was excellent at football and would lead their team to victory. Cas wondered whether or not he would be in advanced classes. Cas never stereotyped people based on first impressions. Cas had once known a girl who was seemingly perfect; she had good grades, played sports, had a nice family, and was basically a model person. But, as it turned out, she had broken many rules, rules that caused punishments to hunt her down like hounds.

"Maybe he'll be in some of our classes!" Meg said brightly. Her eyes went off into the distance. "Hopefully he's in our grade."

"Meg, you aren't thinking…?" Cas said, grinning slightly, eyes sparkling.

Meg glared at him teasingly. "So what if I am? I mean, did you even _look_ at him?! Like, _damn."_ Meg said, licking dry lips.

Cas rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He said, waiting for Meg to enter the room before him.

For the first time in his academic history, Castiel did not pay attention to the lesson. His eyes were on the board, on the teacher, but they were not seeing them. His mind was in an alternate universe, where he sailed on a river of questions and emotions. He was so deep in his dream world that he didn't even push up his glasses when they slid far down his nose. He just rested his chin on his hand and stared unseeingly at the board. A small grin slashed his mouth. His blinks were sluggish, his heart was rapid. He was pushed from his dazed thoughts full of the purring of a car only when the bell rang and people jostled by him. For a moment, he became genuinely curious of the stranger. Who was he? Where was he from?

As Cas walked by the window on the second floor, he could see that sleek vehicle in the parking lot. It had only been about an hour ago since he first saw the stranger. Cas wasn't quite sure what was happening to him. He had eyed people up before, but they never made him feel like this. It was confusing, and Cas disliked being confused. He tried to push the stranger out of his head as he headed to homeroom with Meg. He already didn't know what to do for his history homework; he'd have to pay attention in classes so he wasn't confused when he got home.

Cas was always fascinated by how hallways worked in school. The hallways were like arteries and veins. The students were like red blood cells. The students who misbehaved were like particles of disease. The teachers were like white blood cells. When a student was on their phone and not paying attention to their surroundings, they caused a blockage in the hallway. The slow students were the plaque, and the students trying to get around them were blocked red blood cells. Truman High was comparable to a circulatory system. Cas liked thinking of ideas like this. It took his mind off other things...things like tall teens and long cars...

As he and Meg walked down the stairwell and towards the homeroom they shared, Cas looked through the branches of the oak he sat beneath just an hour ago. Was it really an hour? It seemed like-

"Clarence? Homeroom is this way."

He and Meg broke away from the main line of red blood cells and into a small capillary. The amount of red blood cells in that hallway grew smaller, until they reached their destination.

Homeroom for Meg and Cas was a good part of the day. All they had to do was say "Here!" and then they could talk for the rest of the ten minutes. Normally, they talked about annoying things that Ruby did, or funny jokes that Gabriel had told Cas, or extracurriculars. But today, their conversation was going to be peppered with theories on who the new kid was, and thinking of a way to welcome him to the school. Cas always tried to make new kids comfortable, but he always found that they drifted away from him and joined other cliques, cliques that disliked him. But still, Cas felt obliged to help people, even though he knew they would go dark side.

Cas stood by the doorframe, letting Meg go first. Before she could take one step into the room, a deep voice, happy voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

_"Hey!_ Vonnegut!"

Cas always read stories about a person's heart falling on a stomach full of butterflies, and he never understood until he heard himself being referred to as 'Vonnegut' in a deep, guttural voice. Paler than he thought he could ever be, Cas turned, and saw the stranger running towards he and Meg, his duffel bouncing against his side. His brazen grin was back; he looked very happy to find someone he recognized. His eyes sparkled with green flames.

"Hi." He said breathlessly to Meg, smiling at Cas.

"Hiya." Meg replied, going into her smug and sarcastic mode she used when she was attracted to someone.

The stranger was wrestling something out of his back pocket. Someone bumped into Cas as they pushed past him to get into homeroom. This cleared Cas's mind. _C'mon Cas, focus here._ He blinked, and shut his mouth. He decided to watch the stranger wrestle with his back pocket.

The stranger had pulled out a wrinkled and torn paper. He unfolded it, flipped it right side up, and read it. Glancing quickly towards the room number, he smiled. "Room 116." He declared, folding the paper up and stuffing it back into his jeans pocket. He seemed proud of the fact that he discovered where his homeroom was. Cas knew the feeling all too well; being a freshman and wandering around hallways unbeknownst to him was truly a terrifying experience.

Cas nodded. "Yes, that's our homeroom." He said, staring the stranger full in the eyes, his mind getting murky. He beckoned at Meg and himself.

The stranger didn't say anything for a few seconds. He just half closed his eyes, the grin still on his face. Cas didn't blink, though his eyes began to water. He felt a smile tug at his mouth the more he looked at the stranger's eyes. He wanted to scream out _who are you? I want to know your name so we can talk . I want to know your life story, I want to know about your weird habits. I want to know your fears, your passions, your dreams. I want to know_ everything.

"So…This is your homeroom too, Vonnegut fangirl?" Meg said testily, breaking the silence and the eye contact.

The stranger frowned. "I am not a fangirl." He hissed, his eyes narrowed.

Meg smiled. "Learn to take a joke, man." She said, sauntering into the room moments before the hornet-like bell rang. Cas flew in after her, not wanting to be marked late. He didn't look at the stranger, but he heard his boot steps thudding behind him. Cas felt like a rabbit fleeing from a fox, a fox with fangs that formed a cheeky grin. His eyes soon found Meg, and he went haring after her, seating himself in the chair next to her.

Two pairs of eyes followed the stranger at first, then it was three, four, six, seven. Soon, all the eyes in the room followed the stranger with the boot steps that made the floor shake with confidence. The overall chatter deflated slightly as the tall stranger pulled out the wrinkled paper again, and handed it to the homeroom teacher. Silent questions went unheard. Who is that? Where is he from? Why is he here? Is he nice? Is he a douche? _Who is that?_

Cas saw his glinting green gaze pierce him for a second. Hurriedly, he went deep into conversation with Meg. He heard a jarringly different voice, a voice that was swiftly becoming familiar, talking to the teacher. It was so blaring and unnatural, yet soothing. Cas didn't know how to describe it. He was interrupted once again by thunderous boot steps. He only paused for a moment before talking to Meg again (he already forgotten what they were talking about).

Cas felt a body plop into the empty chair beside him. Cas felt himself stiffen; he disliked it when people he didn't know sat down in his personal space bubble. Hell, sometimes people he did know weren't allowed in his bubble. Only Meg was allowed within the boundaries, and even she was sometimes exiled. He swallowed, and turned to find those eyes again, the grin happier than he had ever seen. Before Cas, Meg, or the stranger could be begin to speak, the teacher began taking roll.

"Ash!"

"Here!"

"Jo!"

"Here!"

"So, Vonnegut fangirl, where are you from?" Meg said, narrowing her eyes and folding her legs.

"Bobby John!"

"Here!"

The stranger didn't respond at first, listening to the teacher and trying to label faces with a name. "Oh you know. Here, there, wherever." He replied vaguely, the twinkle in his eyes distinguished momentarily. Cas blinked, and tilted his head. For a moment, the stranger wasn't the same. For a moment, his eyes were filled with lifeless fire.

"Meg!"

Meg jumped.

"Uh-Here!" She stammered, eyes big.

"Meg, huh?" The stranger asked, the twinkle back in his eyes as if it had never left.

"That's me." Meg confirmed, nodding her head. She glanced at Castiel, who was too busy trying to hear his name. He had to block out all noise in order to concentrate. Cas couldn't handle two or more people talking to him at once. It made him anxious whenever that happened.

"The only mystery is you." The stranger said, addressing Cas.

"I don't know your name yet either." Cas reminded him, tilting his head again.

"Castiel!" The teacher called, eyes scanning the crowd of teenagers to find him.

"Here" Cas said quietly, raising a hand in acknowledgement. The teacher nodded, and resumed roll call.

Cas saw the stranger's brows furrow. Cas didn't like his name, and this was why. People were used to hearing names like 'Steve' or 'Bob' or 'John', and then there was him. No one was called 'Castiel'. Castiel was never on the list of baby names online. No sane parent would name their kid that, and Cas didn't blame them. All his life, people made scathing remarks about his name. (Castiel? What kind of name is that?) (Were your parents drunk when they named you?) He knew this stranger was thinking the same thing, and he lowered his eyes in shame.

"Castiel." The stranger said, as though he was trying to pronounce an exotic word that had an abundance of accents and weird, silent letters. He muttered the name under his breath a few times, staring at Cas unblinkingly. Cas nearly blushed when he realized what the stranger was doing.

He was trying to remember him, attach a name with a face. He was trying to remember this bespectacled, dark haired teen with the funny name. Cas often did this when he wanted to remember the face of someone important or slightly attractive. He wasn't sure why this stranger was memorizing him, of all people, but he was.

"And, uh…Dean Winchester?" The teacher asked tentatively, scanning the crowd again with an uncertain look on her face.

"Hey!" the stranger said in his thrumming voice, grinning the grin and waving. He didn't even blink as all eyes turned on him. In fact, he rather seemed to be enjoying it. He looked around the homeroom from beneath his lashes, his eyes glinting green. The teacher gave one final nod, and the class understood that they could talk again.

Instantly the class broke into a babble, shooting furtive looks at the stranger, who proved to be called Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester seemed to bask in the limelight like a cat in a ray of sunshine. He barely seemed to notice the looks that would have made Cas hide himself away in shame and fear. It was as if he was used to being put on the spot like this.

"Dean Winchester, huh?" Meg said, imitating the tone Dean had used when he said her name.

"That's me." Dean said, imitating Meg's response.

"So, where are you from?" Cas asked, finding a hidden store of courage.

Dean Winchester stared at Cas. His eyes seemed to be reading him like a book. Perhaps he was gleaning more information than Cas would like. Perhaps he was not. Either way, Cas didn't appreciate being stared at by this fascinating person known as Dean Winchester.

"I'm from nowhere." He concluded, and looked away. Cas knew instantly that Dean Winchester's previous whereabouts was forbidden territory. Cas did not wish to anger him, so he didn't press him any further.

Dean seemed to brighten after not being questioned further.

"Do any of you know where room 223 is? I've been in weird buildings, but this is one confusing place." He asked, looking at that hand worn paper once more.

Dean Winchester. The man from nowhere who had a black car and a past as mysterious as an Agatha Christie novel. Cas wanted to unravel the secrets of this peculiar person. He made eye contact with Dean, who smiled almost shyly.

Meg and Cas looked at Dean Winchester, and they knew that they had gained a friend. They each saw a lot of things in this kid. Meg saw a potential prom date.

Castiel saw a challenge in Dean Winchester, a challenge he couldn't wait to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the inactivity my friends! I've been on vacation and I have no means of reaching the internet to post more chapters. But here is Chapter 3! Thanks to those of you who have stayed with me thus far! So, as always: Questions? Comments? Requests? I'm always happy to hear from my readers! I should have Chapter 4 up soon-ish!


	4. Fangirls and Pop Stands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meg breaks all the rules of thumb war, Castiel uses his chemistry notebook as a weapon, and Dean tries to navigate the halls of Truman High while avoiding a barrage of tater tots.

"One, Two, Three, Four, I declare a thumb war."

Cas was trying to trap Meg's thumb under his, but it was far too fast. She always tried to do the bunny hole strategy, but Cas had told her for the umpteenth time that that was unfair. Cas felt like an idiot, sitting there with Meg's thumb so far out of range. It was simply frustrating.

"So, do you think Fangirl is going to show up?" Meg asked casually, trying to pin Cas's thumb, but in vain. He knew that she would leap out of the bunny hole 'unexpectedly', but she always popped up twelve seconds after waiting. She casually chewed a carrot, looking at Cas, waiting for his response. She had her feet propped up on his knees, and Cas gently removed them with his free hand.

"I don't think he likes it when you call him that." Cas replied, twitching his thumb and watching in enjoyment as Meg jerked her thumb away.

"So? I don't care. Maybe he doesn't have our lunch." Meg said, illegally twisting her arm in an effort to squish Cas's thumb. She peered out over the ocean of students who were most certainly in their lunch.

Perhaps he didn't have their lunch, but he had had most of their morning classes. Fangirl, as Meg had taken to calling him, had stuck to them like a super strong adhesive. He perched on their shoulders like a rather chatty, attentive parrot. Cas watched as his eyes constantly roamed around, taking in his surroundings and taking mental notes. Cas knew exactly how he felt; he himself often flitted his gaze to his surroundings, but he wasn't nearly as calm as Dean was. Dean was cool and confident; Cas was worried and afraid.

Another thing that Cas and Meg had noticed rather quickly was that Dean was shockingly smart. He gave off a 'pretty, but dumb' aura, but he was most certainly not dumb. He spoke in odd ways, and sometimes formed sentences that didn't make much sense to Castiel. He wasn't very 'book smart' or 'nerdy smart', as Cas was often told he was. He just had a sharp set of wits and an inquisitive, intuitive mind. He looked at the world that surrounded him, and soon enough, he could process it. Cas found it to be quite fascinating. Meg found it to be quite attractive.

Cas and Meg had lost track of Dean when a guidance counselor had pulled him aside, and shooed them away. So, Meg and Cas had gone to their lockers to get their books for their afternoon classes, and had set out for lunch. Now here they were, waiting to see if Dean would turn up.

As Meg continued to slash and burn every rule known to thumb war, Cas kept his eyes peeled for that tall teen with the glinting, grass green eyes. All he saw was the jabbering heads of his fellow classmates, the occasional tater tot flying around, and people returning to their tables after getting some condiments. He grunted in rage as Meg tried to use her other hand to crush his thumb. That was crossing the line.

When Dean Winchester did finally turn up, he found Cas and Meg throwing books, pencils, and Meg's hairbrush at one another, arguing loudly about the laws of thumb wars. Dean threw one of his tater tots at the fighting pair, it bouncing off Meg's head. Immediately, Meg and Cas stopped fighting. As if nothing had happened, Meg propped her feet back up on Cas's knee, and declared another thumb war. Dean raised an eyebrow at the transition from bloodthirsty warfare to peaceful friendship.

"Hello, Fangirl. Did you get lost?" Meg asked sweetly, pelting the tater tot at his face with surprising force.

Dean flopped down into the chair beside Cas, noticing the blush blooming in the teen's cheeks. He smiled at Cas, and saw his eyes get huge, and then dart down to his lunch, where he drowned tater tots in ketchup. The kid certainly was shy. He had barely said a word to Dean.

"I don't get lost; I get directionally confused." He replied, dipping one of his tater tots into Cas's ketchup, his hand brushing the pale skin that encased Cas's pinky finger. Cas quickly jerked it away.

"Sure, whatever. What classes you got next?" Meg asked, persistently resting her feet on Cas's knees. Cas responded by gently smacking them with his chemistry notebook. Meg casually threw a pen at him.

A quick study, just as Cas assumed, Dean began to observe the people before him. Causally chewing on a chicken nugget, he watched them.

The pair were obviously very close friends. Meg felt very at liberty, as she resumed to prop her feet up on Cas, despite being beaten with a notebook. Cas also wasn't hitting Meg hard at all; He was barely brushing her with his notebook. He obviously didn't want to hurt her. His eyes were as soft as his smile whenever he looked at her. Meg didn't seem to mind as Cas began eating some of her carrots. Dean would have assumed the two were together, but there was a feeling in the air that said otherwise. Cas looked like he loved Meg very much, and Meg looked like she loved him very much, but they were perfectly content to be just friends.

In Dean's opinion, Meg was very pretty. Her hair was long, dark brown, and wavy. It was a little messy, but Dean imagined it had to be difficult to keep such long hair perfect throughout the day, especially after gym class. She was a very quick talker, and seemed pretty sassy. Her eyes were brown, but they didn't say much about what she was thinking. She looked like the kind of girl who didn't take any bullshit, and would probably snap off your head if you said something insulting. And she didn't seem afraid of anything. She seemed like Cas's guardian. Cas was gentle and never seemed to speak up for himself. Meg made sure he was safe. Just last period, she had heaved a dodge ball into the face of someone who knocked Cas's glasses off and laughed. The kid still had a mark on his face in the locker room.

Cas was a little harder for Dean to read. He moved with kindness and gentleness, but his eyes burned with sadness, and deep, deep beneath those cerulean irises, Dean saw anger boiling at high heat. Most noticeably, however, was the large, white bandage that bloomed on the boy's face. Cas seemed totally oblivious to that bandage, as if wearing bandages was as common as wearing socks. Dean also noticed the large number of jagged, white scars that adorned his pale skin. If Dean had to guess, Cas was abused. Quite frequently. He couldn't understand why, though. Cas seemed to be very nice, very smart, and very obedient; the kind of son Dean's father would die to have.

Pondering whilst chewing a nugget, Dean watched as Cas gave up and let Meg keep her feet on his knee. He just bobbed his knee up and down rapidly, exactly in the same manner that Sammy did when he was nervous. Cas was nervous, but he was bobbing his knee because he knew Meg hated it, and would probably remove her leg if he did it for long enough.

"Fangirl? I asked you a question." Meg said, tapping a pen on his foam lunch tray.

Dean started. "Oh! Sorry, just thinking." He said, pulling the even more tattered paper out of his back pocket again. He felt Cas watching him with his gentle, yet angry eyes.

Glancing down at the torn yellow paper, Dean read the black print. "I have…Math in room 304…Biology in room 208…Auto Mechanics in Garage…and then Latin Two in room 231." He listed out, looking up triumphantly.

"Well, looks like you'll be following me to the next two classes, Fangirl, and then Latin eventually too!" Meg said happily, popping a tater tot into her mouth.

"What about you, Castiel?" Dean asked after a moment's silence.

Cas looked at him as he sucked on a pencil.

"You won't see me until Latin." He responded quietly, looking back down at his lunch. His knee was still bouncing.

For the rest of that period, Dean watched his two new friends with interest. It was odd; normally Dean was drawn to people like himself; jock like, thuggish smartasses with a taste for good wheels. Now, here he was, sitting with some normal girl with a sharp tongue and a practically mute nerd guy. It was strange. Dean didn't know why he was gravitating towards these two. Maybe because they were the only ones who didn't stare at him. Maybe because they were the only ones who helped him. Well, mainly that was Meg. Meg was the one who talked, whereas Cas was the one who sat to the side, quietly observing. It unnerved Dean at how quiet Cas was, yet how loud he seemed at the same time. He felt that Cas's eyes were piercing through his very soul. Even though Meg thought Cas was trying his hardest to not have an anxiety attack because he was in a stressful social situation, Dean felt that Cas was staring at him intently.

For some reason, he enjoyed it.

Dean explored Truman High School for the rest of the day with help mainly from Meg. When Meg had told Dean to follow her to the right, Cas had gone left after a hushed goodbye. Meg had tousled Cas's hair, and the boy left with a small smile pasted to his mouth. Dean watched as Cas's oversized navy sweater flopped as he hurriedly walked away, carrying an armload of books. He left behind the scent of notebook paper and faint, spiced deodorant.

"Come on, Fangirl. Math is this way." Meg said, tugging on his jacket sleeve and pulling her backpack over her shoulders. She turned, and was satisfied to hear the noise of Dean's boot steps. Soon, he drew up to her shoulder. He had the half grin on his face again, and he was looking around with great interest. He looked up, down, left, right, and kept throwing glances over his shoulder. He didn't say much at first, his eyes sparkling, but when he saw Meg grinning up at him, he smiled.

"How long of a walk is it? I'm beat." He said as they began to climb a crowded stairwell. Dean noticed many eyes were looking at them, each with a different emotion. Some were looking at him in fear. Others were looking threatening. A large portion of female eyes and even some male eyes were wide with wonder and nervous warmth. Still others just shot him deadpan looks. He just took it all in, sticking close to Meg. If he lost her, he'd be lost for sure. The hallways in the upstairs were even more confusing than those downstairs. He wondered how Meg and Cas did it all the time.

"Not far now. Just around the corner and we're golden." Meg said, rounding said corner into a hallway jammed with people trying to get to lockers. Casually pushing aside a couple exchanging a rather long and silent goodbye, Meg entered a small room with many desks, Dean on her tail. Meg sat down next to a tall, intimidating looking girl with a shock of red hair and red lips that rivaled her long, red nails. Dean headed to the teacher's desk.

As Dean went through the day, he began to learn more and more about the students in his grade. Abaddon was the name of the ferocious, yet pretty girl next to Meg. She had the smile of a wolf, and she made Dean very uneasy. What was worse was that he had to sit directly behind her, but also next to a girl called Jo. Dean liked Jo. He recognized her from his homeroom. She seemed to be very teasing, but he could see she had a kind heart. She had long blonde hair, and a big smile. She helped him organize his binder. The teacher was particularly keen on organization.

Behind Dean sat a funny little kid known as Garth. Garth was very thin and overall very tiny. His eyes were beady, but his smile and his laugh were huge. Dean wasn't sure if he was amused or annoyed by him. He seemed friendly enough, so Dean left him alone.

By the time Dean left Math with Meg for Biology, his head was spinning with all the new things he had experienced. His head was overflowing with the cheery chatter of Garth, the piercing, wolfish smile of Abaddon, the wavy locks and kind words of Jo, and teases from Meg. As he pushed his way through the crowd, the vision of Cas's simmering eyes filled his mind's eye. He was wondering when he would see him again. Dean was determined to become friends with him. He wasn't sure why; he just wanted to befriend the kid. Something inside him told him it was a good idea, and Dean always acted on a honed gut instinct.

Biology was another interesting experience. Seating himself beside a fish tank filled with several neon tetras, Dean was introduced to Bobby John, a funny little kid who smiled a lot. His skin was dark to match his eyes, and Dean liked him. He was quiet, and he reminded Dean of Cas. He sat at a table with Meg, Jo, and Bobby John. He felt lucky. Abaddon was on the very far side of the room, along with a scary looking boy who called himself Cain.

Dean had very good hearing. He could hear very small noises, and he could hear the whispers of people on the far side of the room. But he could also hear other things. Dean could hear things like emotions. He could sense tension, happiness, and fear quite easily. He could almost feel the changes in emotions rattle his eardrums. He had only been in Truman for a day, but he could already hear a silent tension. There was something strange about this school, something no one talked about. It was a beast with no voice, but everyone heard it. It was as if something too terrible to talk about had happened, and everyone was trying their hardest not to bring it up. It was just strange. Dean felt as though he was missing out on something, but he also felt glad for missing out on it.

For the rest of the day, Dean had that nagging tension dragging across his ears. Sure, everyone was nice enough and the school just seemed almost like any other school. But there was the faint presence of violence in the air. The almost absent scent of wrongdoing, some serious wrongdoing. Dean didn't know what it was. It was as if the school was tainted by some evil, but the evil itself was gone. Like an echo from the past, that was what Dean was sensing.

After experiencing Auto Mechanics in the Garage with a grouchy teacher who called himself Bobby, Dean made his way upstairs to try and locate his Latin classroom. Meg had told him which of his classes were upstairs and which were downstairs. She had told him that his Latin classroom was upstairs. Jo had been nice enough to mark on his wrinkled schedule which classes were downstairs and which were up.

Climbing a busy stairwell, Dean kept his eyes peeled for Meg or Cas. He would find it easy to locate them now; Cas was pretty tall, and he seemed weighed down by books. Meg would be harder to find. Meg was shorter; she could blend into crowds easily, which was a advantage at certain times. But Dean had learned a very long time ago to identify people not by their clothes or voices, but by their gaits.

Each person had a unique gait. Some people had bouncy hops like rabbits. These people seemed to have miniscule springs on their feet; they seemed to jump up a little whenever they took a step. The faster they walked, the more noticeable the bounce was.

Other people had a slower gait. They would drag their feet a bit, and weren't nearly as bouncy as the other walkers. It was as if little prison balls were attached to each of their toes; they couldn't bounce if they tried.

It seemed to Dean that with each gait came a different personality. Bouncy gaits were usually associated with bouncy, happy personalities. Sad personalities were dragged down by some unseen weight, but there was no denying that the weight was there. Sharp steps and quick jerks into the air indicated anger. Gentle thumps meant gentle emotions.

Dean already knew Meg and Cas's gaits. Meg walked serious. Meg walked no-nonsense. Meg walked with a step that was brimming with confidence, overflowing like the teary eyes of the afraid and the broken. Meg strolled with the might of a girl who could carry burdens far heavier than herself. Meg sauntered careless. Meg sauntered with salient teeth and eyes. Already Dean admired and also slightly feared Meg.

Cas was a whole different chapter in an entirely different book in a completely different library, which was situated quite nicely in a peculiar nation where up was down, and down was diagonal as well as sideways. Cas did not overflow with confidence. Cas's cup of confidence was completely desolate. Dean didn't have to know Cas very much at all to understand that his self-esteem was staggering in the sewer system. Cas was a battered wall full of holes, cracks, and chinks. Something in his life was hacking at him like a jackhammer on steroids, and Dean didn't want to know what. The kid had a god soul; Dean had a knack for detecting good souls from bad souls. Cas was anxious and afraid, in a situation in which he needed compassion and protection. A fledgling bird just too afraid to try out his black wings.

As Dean was rummaging through thoughts of gaits and personalities and all that he had seen that day, he managed to find Cas. It was as if Cas knew that Dean was thinking about him, and had suddenly appeared as if he melted from the wall behind him. His arms were embracing binders and a pencil case. His glasses were balancing somewhat precariously on the end of his nose. Hastily, he used one long, bony index finger to push them up again.

Cas saw Dean, and his eyes lit up in a mixture of alarm and recognition. Perhaps the recognition was the cause of the alarm. Dean wasn't sure. Either way, Dean was happy to see Cas, and Cas seemed to just be, well, alarmed to see him. His bony hands clamped like bulldog jaws on his book. He gave a start, as if remembering something someone had taught him, and gave a small smile.

Dean gave a great grin. "Hiya Cas!" He said, refraining from cuffing his shoulder because he sensed that Cas was the kind of person who disliked being touched. Even though Dean didn't have much of a personal space bubble, he knew other people did. Borders made people cherish a sense of security. To respect such borders was simple etiquette.

Tentatively, Cas squinted at Dean. He swallowed, and cautiously said in a quiet voice "Hello…Dean." He picked at the spine of one of his binders, marked 'Chemistry' in easily readable letters. Dean was slightly surprised to see a rather well-done drawing of a beaker full of lime green liquid plastered on the front it. He wondered whether or not it was printed out, or if Cas did it himself.

"Ah! See? You remembered!" Dean cried, truly happy.

"I have an excellent memory." Came the simple, very serious response.

"I'm sure you do. It's tenth period right? That means we have Latin, right? Where am I?" Dean asked, scratching the back of his neck. He felt the fine hairs growing there, and he watched as Cas continued to squint at him. He grinned a little uncomfortably.

Mutely, Cas pushed his glasses up again. He reminded himself to fix the frames when he returned home. He didn't say anything.

Suddenly, Dean felt someone on his left. He looked down, and saw that Meg had arrived. She was looking at Cas, an amused glint in her sharp eyes. Cas shot a wordless look at her, and Dean watched in fascination as the two had a silent conversation. Blinks, eyebrow twitches and dimple movements were the only thing these two needed to communicate. Words were a little easier, however.

Meg looked up at Dean. "You smell like oil," She declared without pretense.

"I take Auto Mechanics. Of course I smell like oil." Dean responded.

Meg shrugged. "Whatever. Latin's this way. Hurry up, or we'll be marked late." Meg said, turning on her heel and walking down a hallway choking with students. Cas followed wordlessly, slithering between students, somehow managing to not be touched whatsoever. Not wanting to get lost, Dean quickened his pace.

The small hallway emptied into a larger, yellow hallway. Dean recognized this hallway; his English class had taken place just a few doors down from the room they were now approaching; the Latin room. Meg entered first, shortly followed by Cas, Dean, and the bell.

Cas scurried to his seat next to the girl Dean recognized as Jo. Jo's charisma seemed to work on everyone; even Cas seemed relaxed around her. At least he wasn't hunched into a ball when he sat next to her. Meg sat down behind them, sitting next to a girl Dean didn't recognize.

Dean sat by himself behind Meg. He, Cas, and Meg were in the same column. Seeing over Meg's head was easy; Cas was the problem. The kid was tall, and he couldn't help it. Dean couldn't see much of the board over that shock of messy black hair. But he didn't really mind. Dean wasn't much of a visual, note taking kind of learner anyway. When it came to schoolwork that is; Dean was a good reader of people.

Besides, Dean had learned so much about a whole wealth of things just by looking. Just on his first day, Dean could bet his car keys that he knew certain things about certain people. He could guess that Cas was abused. That much was obvious. He could say that Meg was a fiery ball of feminist passion. He didn't know what was up with Garth, but he seemed nice enough. Abaddon probably plotted ways to punish people who annoyed her. She just had that look. Jo was a hardy and tough girl, but also probably liked puppies and baking on the side. And their Latin teacher might have had a caffeine addiction because she twitched a lot and had to run across the hall to her office to get some coffee, even though it was 1:30 in the afternoon.

Dean didn't need a board. He could learn just by looking at what was before and stating the not-so-obvious.

The bell soon rang, and with it was the guillotine that hacked off the head of the day.

What a day indeed.

Directing Dean to his locker wasn't very difficult. Dean was just a hallway over from Meg and Cas. Lockers were sorted by grade and last names. Meg Masters and Castiel Novak were quite close to one another, as close as the letters 'm' and 'n'. Dean Winchester was just a little bit farther away.

Leaving Dean and heading to their own lockers, Meg for once was deep in thought, which was a good thing. Meg acted primarily on gut instinct, and that sometimes left her in situations stickier than a terrifying mass of glue, gum, slug slime, honey, and syrup. Cas usually thought enough for the both of them, but today was different. It was rare for her to meditate on problems.

As Cas knelt down to his locker, Meg voiced her thoughts.

"So, what do you think of Fangirl there, Clarence?"

Cas wasn't listening. He was too absorbed in his agenda book, pulling this and that out of his locker and stuffing them into his backpack. He was mumbling inarticulately to himself. Did he have any Chemistry homework? What about English? And History?

Meg hung onto her locker door impatiently. "Clarence?" She pressed.

Cas mumbled louder, trying to block out her voice. He was thinking. He was the kind of thinker who could only focus upon one thing at a time. Perhaps he a Latin translation. His handwriting was difficult to decipher sometimes.

"Castiel, I'm talking to you," Meg said again, stuffing a folder into her bag. She poked him with a foot.

Cas looked up, startled to hear his actual name used.

"Sorry?" he asked, smiling innocently. He did have Latin homework. Now he could listen.

"Fangirl. I need opinions." Meg whispered, slamming her locker shut so that no one but Cas could hear her. She continued to poke him, even though she had his full attention.

"Why are you whispering? No one knows who Fangirl is besides us," Cas pointed out, shutting his locker and poking Meg back.

Meg shrugged.

"Why do you need opinions anyway?"

Meg glowered through her teeth. "Because! I am nosy and I enjoy talking,"

Cas also shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, I guess you are." He said, nodding, poking her one last time.

Meg was indeed nosy. She sometimes gossiped, and she liked discussing theories on people. A new kid that she found attractive was setting her juices and sense of curiosity to boiling.

It was Monday. Neither of the two worked on Mondays. Meg was a waitress at the local Italian restaurant, spending stuffy hours balancing trays of food on her arms and hips, keeping her mouth shut even though she met so many people who angered her in so many ways. Cas worked as a teller in the local bank. Despite his anxiety, being in a bank was calming. It smelled nice, and the other tellers were nice. Besides, he was being paid. He could suffer through this, especially knowing where Meg was. He couldn't picture himself carrying trays of food to rude people and noisy children.

Because it was Monday, Cas headed with Meg back to the Masters household. It was best to stay out of his father's way as much as possible. Besides, no one else was home. Michael and Gabriel were both working. Lucifer was wandering with his friends, the malicious bunch of kids who left behind that tension that Dean had picked up earlier. Eventually, the four siblings would return home, and Cas would just hide himself in his room anyway. It wasn't like Cas really wanted to go home. He'd much rather be at Meg's house, helping Ruby with homework and hanging out with Meg. It was much more peaceful. There, he wouldn't be yelled at for drawing, or writing, or doing whatever he pleased. In fact, he was admired for doing those things.

Who could blame him for wanting to go to the place where he was admired, yes, respected?

And so, they leapt over fences, cut through alleys, and crossed the grounds of the town library. Meg barked at dogs that growled at her through chain linked fences, whereas Cas would keep a fair gap between himself and the fence. Meg would then wave at drivers that honked their horns angrily when she jaywalked across the street, ignoring the traffic lights. Cas would hurry behind her, shooting the angry drivers apologetic looks.

They made a detour, walking across the green lawns of Truman Junior High. Standing in the shadows of a shady maple, the two would look for Ruby's dark hair and bright blue backpack. Meg also listened for her sister's voice, which, as she so put it, was 'enough to wilt all of the plants of this side of the Mississippi.'

Today was different. Today was just different on so many levels, it was making Cas a little dizzy. He was starting to get accustomed to hearing the purring of a car at the high school, but what was it doing _here?_

Sure enough, that black Impala was zipping its way down the street, avoiding other cars and packs of small children. Children and adult heads alike were turning to look at that car. Some parents were annoyed at the noise the car made, but it was soothing to Cas, yet still alarming. A bit more on the latter, because Cas didn't know why Dean was here. Perhaps he lived in the one of the houses down the street?

Cas watched, paralyzed as Dean parked on the twisty street, got out of his Impala, and leaned on it, his eyes on the gate of the school grounds. He seemed to not have noticed them at all. He had a faint frown on his lips, his brow furrowed. Cas absently fluttered his hand until he reached Meg's jacket, and gave it a few tugs.

"I see him, Clarence," She said. Cas turned, and saw Meg's narrowed eyes fixed on the car. Her arms were folded, and her brow was also furrowed.

Cas began to think that maybe Dean was following them, when he heard a loud voice sing out "'Bye, Sam!"

Cas and Meg turned as one, and saw Ruby waving furiously to a tallish boy with long hair. One hand on his backpack shoulder strap, he smiled nervously as he waved back. He then stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, and maneuvered his way towards the Impala.

"Hey, slut," Meg greeted her sister, tousling her hair.

"Hiya bitch," Ruby responded. Cas laughed softly under his breath. The relationship between the sisters was something to respect, but also ponder over. Calling each other all manner of bad names was their way of saying 'Hi, how are you? Have a good day at school?' It certainly was easier to just say 'whore' and 'bitch' and 'slut' instead of using all those formalities.

Cas watched as 'Sam' reached the Impala. Then it hit Cas; Dean had a little brother that he obviously cared about a lot. The look on Dean's face said as much. His face lit up like a light bulb factory, and his eyes grew so soft, softer than a rabbit fur scarf. Dean copied Meg, and tousled his brother's long hair. He said something, to which Sam responded, a smile on his face as he wound around the car, sitting down in the passenger seat. The car roared, and pounded down the street, out of sight.

"So who was that, Rubes?" Meg asked as she pulled on Cas's shirt to get him moving. Stumbling, he hurried up to walk beside her. The purring still buzzed steadily in his ears.

Ruby pulled her hair out of a ponytail. She walked on Cas's other side. "That was a new kid. His name is Sam," She replied. She put the hair tie on her skinny wrist. She smiled a little.

"I figured that much, dolt, when you screamed his name,"

Ruby shot a withering look at her sister, which was returned with a glower. Cas watched with fascination. Knowing these two all his life, he was still amazed at how close they were, even though they fired vile curses and phrases at one another daily.

They continued to trek the few blocks to the Masters household. As they did so, Ruby continued her tale. Cas wasn't paying much attention; he watched as his shoes squished the grass, and thought about how close Dean and Sam were. It reminded him of both his blooming relationship with Gabriel, and his failing relationship with Michael and Lucifer. He wanted to be close with all of his brothers; he loved them unconditionally, even though they didn't return the affection all that much.

"He's just a new kid. You know, quiet, severely uncomfortable, the whole nine," She said, walking around the puddle that Meg jumped into.

"We met his brother," Cas said, following Ruby's footsteps around the puddle. He flicked those fraternal thoughts out of his mind, but the residue remained. Always the residue of any unhappy thought remained in Cas's mind.

Ruby turned to look at Cas. "Who's his brother?"

Cas blinked, his cheeks dusted pink. "Dean, the guy who drove that car."

Ruby blinked at Cas, and then turned to Meg. "Is he hot?" She blurted out immediately. Her eyes were huge as she awaited an answer.

Meg grinned and Cas released a quiet stream of laughter, his eyes crinkled and his teeth bared. He poked at the bandage on his face, ignoring Meg's growl of disapproval.

"Sure is, Rubes. 10 out of 10, I'd say," said Meg to her little sister.

Cas grinned cheekily. "And you Ruby? How about the fine Sam?" He asked, nudging the smaller girl with a gentle elbow. She responded with a light smack and a furious blush. "No, Castiel, I don't think he's hot." She hissed, straightening her shoulders and looking straight ahead, something she always did when she was embarrassed. Cas patted her head from his aerial vantage point, not even noticing he was doing it.

Soon, they were walking up the sidewalk that led to the entrance of the Masters' household. Cas walked up the sidewalk. Meg cut across the grass, followed by Ruby. Brushing against the neat shrubbery, the three climbed the stairs, and onto the porch. Like a warm embrace, the floral porch swallowed them, crooning with happiness.

Cas held the door open and watched as Meg and Ruby filed in, dropping their backpacks off their shoulders. The scent of the Masters' house wafted over Cas; a mixture of vanilla and fireplace logs burning softly like the eyes of the repressed.

Cas stepped over the threshold, and then stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head and surveyed the sofa. Perched there with cups of tea and coffee in their hands was Mrs. Masters, as well as-

"Gabriel?" Meg and Cas said at the same time, the door swinging shut behind them. Ruby looked slightly confused as she put her backpack under the table next to the sofa. Gabriel had been to the Masters household many times before. He came there to check on Cas, to just say hello, or to eat some food when he was hungry.

Gabriel, normally a joking smartass, had an expression of worry tacked onto his face. His large hands encased the steaming mug of coffee he was sipping from. His lips were jutting out, a habit he had when he was worried. As soon as he saw Cas, he hastily whisked away the concerned expression and adopted his usual smartass one. He grinned cockily.

"Hi Castiel!" He said, leaning back into the sofa, holding his coffee with one hand. His very presence seemed to calm Cas's very soul. It was as if Gabriel was a dragon with poison teeth and jagged talons that protected Cas from anything. A dragon that was gentle to no one except Castiel.

Cas nodded. "Hello Gabriel, but what's wrong?" He asked, skipping the preamble. Gabriel rarely showed up this early; normally he would relax at home after his first job, reading the newspaper or watching the TV. Something must have disrupted his usual pattern, for here he was, on the sofa at the wrong time.

Gabriel's smile faltered a little, his hand clutching his coffee tighter. "Well little bro…Bad things are certainly afoot," He said, watching as Cas slowly put down his things. Cas moved like an animal unable to decide whether or not to fight or flee. He was a bird that was flapping its wings, and squawking in fear, feet dancing forwards and then backwards. It would be comical if the situation didn't feel so serious.

Meg snorted from the kitchen, her schoolbag long forgotten. "Great story, ass. Care to elaborate?" She called. Cas could hear her rummaging in a cupboard. Probably the one under next to the toaster, which was where the chips were located.

Gabriel casually flipped a birdie behind his back, visible from the kitchen.

"Sure thing. Looks like Luci has blown the pop stand," He growled, his eyes boring into Castiel with stony anger and concern. Cas could almost feel his brother's heart squirming with a concern far too great for such a being to carry alone.

Silence pounced like a blanket falling over a mangled corpse. All eyes, even the smallest, shot towards Gabriel like a bullet. The claw of fear slashed the tranquil living room, the blood pouring from the wound drowning them all so that they could not speak.

In the threshold of the kitchen stood Meg, grasping a bowl of Doritos with such force that her hands were turning white. Her bottom eyelid twitched, and her jaw looked like it was auditioning for a role as a lockjaw victim. Her eyes were glued on the back of Gabriel's head. She looked as though she was about to say something, but her vocal cords seemed to be slashed.

Mrs. Masters sat on the edge of the couch seat, her gaze swimming in the contents of her mug. She too was squeezing her mug, her eyelid twitching. She had drawn her knees closer to herself, and she was breathing heavily. She looked up at Gabriel, fear personified on her face. She then cast her eyes quickly over to Ruby.

To Cas's right was Ruby, leaning against a wall. Her right hand was massaging her right side. Her eyes were vacant and tight. She didn't realize she was moving at all. Her mouth hung slightly open, her gaze fixed upon Gabriel. The more she stood there and thought, the harder she rubbed her side. She swallowed, and Cas saw that her limbs were shaking ever so slightly.

As one, everyone turned to look at Cas, who had truly gone whiter than a parsnip. He stood, hunched as if he was once again carrying a boulder he had once relieved himself of. His eyes were huge, almost as huge as the silence that leaked into every corner of the room. He played with the hem of his sweater, needing to feel something tangible in order to stave off imminent fear and mental breakdown

The past was flashing before each of their eyes. In a blur, they each saw and heard the same things. Fire alarms ringing in everyone's skull. The sound of knuckled flesh pounding bruised and defenseless skin. Curses and chants staining the air. A silver blade with the bite of a serpent. Ambulance sirens, a paramedic lifting a young, dark haired girl onto a stretcher, the pulse of the heart erratic and slowing down, down, down… The cries of injustice that scraped the sky, the bitter tears of the broken soul.

Cas watched as Ruby massaged her side. Now, here it was, all over again. The screams, the blade, the sirens. All of those had the potential of rearing out of their cage. It was as if someone had opened the prison that didn't have a key. All of that terror, all of that pain…It was all returning in a few seconds.

"…B-Blown the pop stand?" He whispered, pushing his hair off his forehead.

Gabriel nodded. "Yup. Lucifer is gone," He said with a finality that made Cas want to cry. But Cas didn't have any tears left to cry. His heart was just a voluminous cavern scattered with the salt his dried up tears left behind.

"Well…He's been gone for a few days before, hasn't he? Maybe he'll turn up," Mrs. Masters said, almost pleadingly.

"Something's different this time. I just know," Gabriel growled, looking out the window. He gazed at the curtains like it was all their fault that Lucifer was loose in a neighborhood that didn't need such a threat.

"I agree. He's been odder than usual recently," Cas said, nodding. Cas knew his brothers. He could tell instantly whether or not one of them was feeling different.

Gabriel drained the dregs of his coffee.

"Lucifer's out. So long as he's out, no one is safe."

Cas sank back against the door, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. It had been a long time since he last prayed, but he felt that now was a good a time as any. His fingers closed upon the doorknob, cold against his skin. He wanted to do nothing more than sink into the doorframe and never come back. He clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes. Within all the screams echoing from the past, he pleaded.

_Lucifer is free. God help us, God help us all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! DA DA DA DAAAAA! Sorry about the wait/technical difficulties! So, as usual, any questions? Comments? Requests? Thank you all so much for your patience. I love you all dearly!


	5. Prayers Against the Flat Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel displays his enjoyment of lollipops, Meg runs willy-nilly in a tank top and slipper socks, and Cas feels nostalgic because of a model T-rex.

Although she constantly told Cas that crying was a good, therapeutic thing to do, Meg didn't cry too often herself. Meg had an abundance of physical and emotional strength; she was stronger than plenty of the students at school, Cas included. She was small, and she was strong. Being small was a good thing for people like Meg. No one ever expected her to be bold, to be strong of tongue, body, and mind. No one ever expected the claw to lash out. But the claw most certainly did lash out.

But even the strongest collapse over time. Like a column of an ancient stone temple, Meg would crumble and chip away. Supporting the weight of the temple would become too much for her as she was hacked and chipped at by responsibilities, emotions, and near anything else. Meg gave the appearance of a carefree, clever girl, but she was wounded every time some shot ill remarks at her, or every time she forgot to do homework. The temple would fall, and Meg would be reduced to a puddle of salty tears and anxiety.

Cas was experienced in the area of emotional breakdown. He knew exactly what to do whenever he was clutched by the powerful talons of his anxious mind, but he got terrified whenever Meg broke. Meg was his rock; Meg was the one who consoled him, who glued him back together. Meg was the one who wiped away his tears. He could never get used to him doing that to her. His very soul shed tears whenever Meg cried. He would do anything to make her happy again, simply anything. He just wanted to make sure his best friend lived a happy, stress free life.

Cas was a wordsmith; his writing was much better than his conversational skills. Often he would hug Meg awkwardly, trying to find words to say but failing epically, in his eyes. Meg was very good at comforting herself, so all she needed was the reassuring heat of another human's flesh, in which Cas's hug provided. Cas only wished that communicating through letters was still accepted. It was somehow easier to transfer his words onto paper than to transfer them into the air around him. It was as if his mouth had a strainer; the words he meant to say would cluster around his teeth and the liquid slosh no one cared for flowed out instead, drowning Meg in consolations she couldn't use.

Never before had they both cried freely, reaching out for reassurance and a lift from the pain. Their emotions ran wild like the bow across a cello. The liquid sound that reverberated from the strings flavored their salty tears. Rampant as the searing shouts from those with hatred, the anger charged through ever nerve fiber in their skin. Like an acidic venom, the anguish oozed through every cell of their petrified bodies.

It had been the only time Meg had been to Castiel's house. Every other time, Cas had told her to stay away, as far away from Hell as she could. And she had. She had placed an entire town between her and Cas's house. Cas was a weak child; he never spoke up for himself. But Meg had never seen him so firm with his emotions whenever he warned her from his house. He was worried. He had a grasp on what he wanted. He wanted Meg to be as far away from his father as humanly possible.

* * *

It was Gabriel who answered the door. Loping towards the door across the stained carpet from the scuffed sofa, he peered through the peephole. Castiel had been watching his every move, and as Gabriel turned and cast him a quizzical look, he hastily stowed the drawing pad he had been sketching on under the sofa. He tilted his head when Gabriel raised his eyebrows and twitched his mouth. Cas was never too good at interpreting facial expressions. He could only translate Meg's readily. What was Gabriel doing? It looked like he was having a facial seizure.

Gabriel opened the door, and blocked Cas's view of who was standing there. Cas didn't move, thinking it was his father, as usual. But then again…why would his father knock…?

Gabriel stood quickly aside, revealing a girl Cas had never seen before. He had seen the face before, yes. He had watched that face grow over the years. He had watched it become dirt, mud, snow, and blood covered from years of playing and pillaging. He had watched it become coated with beauty as the girl applied makeup to herself (and to Cas, when they were younger. He didn't like makeup in his eyes. It hurt, so they had discontinued,) He saw it dusted with flour and chocolate when she baked, and with Doritos whenever they watched TV. But damp with salt? This was new for this girl.

But was this the same girl? Was this really Meg, the Meg who was always the stronger of the pair? The girl who only cried when she was in serious physical pain or when she watched _Marley and Me?_ Meg was a statue, an indestructible statue. But the marble lay scattered in jagged pieces on Cas's doorstep, jarringly white against the impervious blackness of the chilled night.

Meg stood on the doorstep, noticeably swaying. She was clutching a tissue in her right hand, and she was holding a stitch in her side with her left. Her face, normally splattered with a sly smirk, was broken. Her eyes were seemingly swelling before them as they watched, and the whites of her eyes were nearly completely red. Eye makeup that Cas refused as a child bled on her stark white cheeks. Her shoulders drawn close to her neck, her toes pointing towards one another, Meg looked nothing like her usual self. She was cowering. She was afraid. Her chest was heaving up and down as if she had been running from an unimaginable fear.

Cas didn't even realize he had left his perch on the sofa. He awoke with a jolt, and realized that he was holding Meg's face with his shaking hands. His heart was screaming and clawing, roaring to escape its cage. He could see his chest shaking from his heart's primal fear. His limbs were quaking with the power of timid lightning. His brain was twitching and jerking; he sensed that something dreadful had happened, and he was reacting to it. He just stared at Meg, and she stared back, unable to speak. Her throat must have been swollen from the pressure of trying not to sob.

Gabriel had grabbed them both, bodily yanked them inside, and shut the door. They barely even blinked. Gabriel was the first to speak. His voice was jarringly different from the voices racing inside Cas's head. Wordlessly, he had a babbling monologue with himself, a TV talk show hosted by himself, featuring himself.

_Was she hurt? No, not physically at least. But not all injuries are visible, remember. She could be suffering from some internal trauma or something. Hell! What do I know about that? What could I do about that?_

_Has something happened at home? That's mainly my issue. Everyone gets along fine at her house! Couldn't be a happier family, so what could possibly have happened to make her like this?!_

_Was it Lucifer? Where is Lucifer?! He isn't home, last I checked. Probably out to play poker with his buddies, but we all know what that means, huh? Oh God, what if he did something to her? I swear, if that mangy little-_

"Meg, what happened? Are you hurt?!" Gabriel asked soothingly, yet firmly. His eyes seemed to glow with a honeyed light as he gripped Meg's shoulder, staring at her face unblinkingly. He too was obviously quite unnerved. Cas, swaying to the unseen rhythm of the conversation in his mind, burst back into reality once more.

Meg didn't release her grip on Cas's wrists. Cas hadn't noticed that either. He felt that she was shaking just as much as he was, perhaps even harder. Remembering that he was the one who had to be strong now, Cas grabbed both of her hands, slowly calming them with caresses from his thumbs. How small her hands were! And how fragile they seemed! A marble statue with a mallet hovering just inches above.

Meg gulped, and spoke with a voice that had so much determined strength that Cas was nearly swept away with admiration. Even though that strength melted towards the end of the phrase, the fact that she could summon up the courage to try and continue to be tough Meg, Meg who was always alright, was absolutely astounding to both Cas and Gabriel.

Still shaking with the power of a thousand devastated widows, Meg drew in a breath, and with the exhale she weaved words that made Cas want to melt into the floor, and never solidify again. The word weaver's mouth shook, and from it emerged the deep blue threads of heartbreak, the sickly yellow threads of hopelessness, and the scarlet threads of anger, all entwined together to form a ragged tapestry of profound grief and broken anguish.

"Lucifer. He's out again, but this time, shit went to fan." She said in a rock hard voice. She was staring at Cas's thumbs, and her body was shaking harder the stronger her words were. She tore her gaze off Cas's thumbs, and she watched as his pupils dilated and shrunk as he fought with an armada of emotions. The stare between them was so intense, and it did not break.

She gave a heart wrenching heave, and she wailed, quiet at first, but increased only so slightly in volume. It was high pitched, marinated in a sizzling pan of grief. It was so inhuman, so un- _Meg_. It was gut instinct turned sour. It was basic human instinct; it was the instinct of grief and mourning. It was pure, untouched sadness. It took away Cas's voice, it snatched his tears. It even made off with his breath.

"…And?" Gabriel said, his voice tight. He gripped Meg's shoulder harder. She squeaked in quiet pain.

Cas slashed out at Gabriel, his pale fist battering Gabriel's arm away from Meg. Had the situation been different, Gabriel would have been shocked and would have smacked Cas back. But all he did was gape, dumbfounded, at his nonviolent brother who had anger seething in his boiling blue eyes. He had never seen anything so frightening. Sapphire knives were twisting in his skull. Cas looked ready to kill Gabriel, so great was his fury. Smoky anger poisoned his eyes.

Gabriel released Meg, but continued to look at her, squeezing for an answer.

Meg looked up at Cas, her eyes steaming scarlet. "It's Ruby, Clarence." She whispered, in a voice that made Cas blink and nearly fall to his knees. Tapping some hidden reserve of strength, he managed to stay on his feet.

Cas had never felt such a flurry of emotions in his life. Terror, pain, and a twisted love were all stabbing him with venomous knives. But anger, such as he had never felt it before, was absolutely hacking him apart. Cas had always read about a red haze going over a character's eyes whenever they were angry enough to be deadly. He never thought he would experience that himself. A demon was born inside Cas's soul that night, an infant of such power, an infant that grew to full size as fast as Meg uttered her next sentence.

"It was Lucifer, he got Ruby, I just know it Clarence. I didn't see it, I didn't see anything, All I saw was Ruby, walking up our street, and then this guy just comes up and fucking stabs her, Castiel! _Lucifer fucking stabbed my little sister!"_

Meg's voice was growing in pitch and volume. She was hopping from foot to foot, her eyes growing wider and wider, drowning as hot tears were formed. She had dug her nails so hard into Cas's hand that he was bleeding, the blood as red as the haze in his eyes. The demon child scribbled on his sclera with a red sharpie, rejoicing at his hatred, laughing a high pitched, maniacal laugh.

Gabriel was watching the scene unfold with fear. He watched as his brother heaved, his muscles clenching and unclenching. His jaw was locked tight, and his brow furrowed and jutted outwards. He was breathing hard through his gritted teeth and nostrils. He was no longer shaking in fear. He was shaking in fury. He was shaking with something Gabriel never wished to see his brother shake with. He could almost see the demon writhing in his soul, he could almost hear it's seductive sigh of content as it bathed in Cas's astringent fury.

The more Gabriel watched, the more he breathed in the air that was tainted by Castiel's fury, the more hatred he felt himself. He grabbed at his hair, and he too began to quiver. He began to pace back and forth, as restless and a lioness ready for the hunt.

Lucifer had been a stain on the family name. Here, he had dumped an entire store isle of grape juice on a pure white sofa. Enough was enough.

"Castiel, you're hurting me," Me whispered, looking up at Cas with salty, wet, and fearful eyes. Her eyes showed so much hurt, but not physical hurt. It was emotional hurt, a wound in trust. A gunshot from someone she would least expect.

Gabriel watched as his brother jerked out of what was seemingly a trance, wince at what he had done, and clamp both of Megs hands into his, his touch gentler than a mother's to a wailing infant. He wiped away the blood he has caused Meg to bleed. Bringing her close, he left a gentle kiss on her hair, his breath warm on her head.

Gabriel and Cas both looked up as blaring sirens and flashing lights zoomed up the street, obviously heading toward the scene of the crime Meg claimed to be committed by Lucifer. Cas took Meg's word as gospel, so he believed her. Besides, who else in this neighborhood had the mind sick enough to stab a young girl?

Recovering use of his vocal cords, Cas asked in an extremely worried voice "I-Is she alright?! Did she…" He trailed off, not wanting to say his next thought.

"She couldn't have!" Gabriel snapped, his teeth biting off the air as he sounded out each sharp syllable.

"I don't know…I don't know…" Meg whispered, her head still sheltered in the crook of Cas's shoulder.

_She couldn't have._

Grabbing Meg a coat, and putting on their own coats, Cas and Gabriel readied themselves for the night ahead. Michael wouldn't notice their absence until well into the afternoon the next day. He had had a good time at the bar, and so had their father, just at a different bar.

Besides, Cas was going, no matter what any member of his family said.

And if he saw Lucifer along the way…Well, the image of Castiel Novak being a weak and nonviolent boy was going to be slaughtered, the jagged marble pieces littering the world's doorstep.

That night, the flames beneath his irises began to boil the anger, the anger that harbored in his eyes forevermore.

_Lucifer stabbed my fucking sister!_

_She couldn't have…_

_Did she?_

* * *

"Clarence?"

Cas jerked out of his dream state as he leaned against the Masters' front door. His backpack was slumped against his feet. Meg was still in the kitchen doorframe. She still had a claw like grip on the bowl of nacho cheese Doritos in her hand. Cas could feel the ghosts of her hands from a year ago, the hands that left the tiny white scars on his wrist. His hand was still pushing his hair back. Ruby was still massaging her right side, but her gaze was shifting between Meg and Cas. Gabriel was looking at Cas as if he had seen the same visions that he had. Mrs. Masters was still perched on the edge of the couch, defeated as she shakily sipped some of her tea. It seemed as though everyone had run the previous year's scenario in their heads. Meg had had enough, and had jerked everyone away from their daydreams that had a nightmare burning beneath.

Everyone was staring at Cas once again, looking to him for leadership and solace. Even Gabriel knew that matters that involved the Masters' overall well being was Cas's territory.

Cas heaved a sigh that was littered with defeat. He rubbed his eyes hard, as if trying to wipe away the pictures that were tacked to the insides of his eyelids. Over and over again, he relayed the events that occurred over a year before. Realizing that this was real, and that the threat that Lucifer posed was not to be underestimated, Cas instead concentrated on what precautions should be taken.

"So…um…what do we do? Do we try to find him before something bad happens again?" He asked, not taking his hands off his eyes. Cas was a stressed out puddle of anxiety as it was, but now he was on the verge of a panic attack. Already he felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen, already he felt his fingers and nose beginning to tingle. Taking deep breaths, he eased himself back into the world where he didn't want to hyperventilate.

"No, not us. We'd never be able to find him. Lucifer knows we want to find him, so he'll make his little ass invisible to us. He's good at hiding from people," Gabriel growled, standing up with his empty coffee mug. He stalked towards the kitchen, Meg moving out into the living room to let him enter.

"Well, if not us, who, then?" Cas called in the direction of the kitchen. He heard the tap running, and the faint clinking of ceramics.

"We call the police, don't we? They told us to call if anything suspicious started happening…right?" Ruby said quietly, still absently rubbing her right side.

Cas's eyes moved along with her hand. Moving in slow circles, he leaned farther into the door, circulating in and out of reality…

* * *

"Why the hell didn't you call, Meg?"

Cas had tossed a heavy coat at Meg. She was wearing nothing more than a tank top and some pajama pants, and slipper socks. The air was a relentless nippy dog; Meg's red cheeks and hands said as much. It was autumn, gradually becoming winter. Tonight was no night to be wandering willy-nilly in the wrong clothes. Encasing her cuts with a some of the few bandages left in the house, Cas was still trying to comprehend what had happened.

"Phone's not working again," Gabriel called quietly from the ramshackle kitchen, his feet squeaking on the cracked, dirty linoleum. He quietly stomped a boot to situate his heel. His jaw was clenched, and he was glaring unblinkingly at the wall before him. Cas could almost hear the mental battle raging inside his head.

Meg nodded her agreement, bringing the coat around herself. It smelled of cigarettes and an excess amount of Old Spice, but she could live it. At least now she was warm, but the coat failed to heat the dread and fear inside her heart.

"I tried to call, but the phone just made a few funny clicks and just went dead. Then I just came here. I knew you guys were home, so…" She whispered, watching as hot tears soothed her cold hands. Her eyes followed Cas and he moved speedily around the house, somehow managing to tie his shoes and put on a coat at the same time. His jaw was clenched in the same matter as Gabriel's. Instead of keeping silent, he spit out a flurry of questions.

"Where is she now?" He asked, buttoning up his coat at lightning speed. Waiting for an answer and for Gabriel to finish, he put a hand on Meg's quaking shoulder. She didn't look right. She didn't smell right. Nothing was right, and Cas just wanted to fix everything. He wanted to tape and paper clip everything about Meg so that she wasn't sad and afraid. He had a mad desire to find some scotch tape, staples, and glue.

Gabriel shifted his attention from office supplies as they hurried out the front door and onto the sinking, wooden porch that sagged under their collective weight. Gabriel leapt off the porch and over the steps, while Cas and Meg clattered down them.

"How did you get away? Didn't you need to talk to the cops or something?" Gabriel called as he began to power walk. Meg looked impatient, taking fast, little steps.

"Can we move faster please?" She said, her voice tighter than a chokehold.

And with that, the three of them broke out into a run, the air jarred and jangled by the uneven thundering of each of their boot and footsteps. Tearing down the street, three silhouettes leapt over puddles, narrowly avoided late night dog walkers, and dodged angry car drivers.

Gabriel ran first. His right hand was in his pocket, and Cas knew that his switchblade was open and poised within the wool lining of his jacket. His legs were pumping, and Cas could almost hear him take deep, even gulps and exhales.

Meg ran behind his brother. Her arms were outstretched in order for her to keep her balance. There was no graceful, cool, collected Meg tonight. Tonight, thought Cas, lives were at stake. People that once prided themselves with quiet, awesome running sprinted wildly, hair flying and mouth open to consume oxygen that would propel them just a little faster.

As they ran, Cas sighed a quick sigh of relief when he saw and ambulance scream by.

Gabriel noticed as they tore down the street in the direction of the Masters' house that their neighbors were poking heads out of doors and peering out of windows. This neighborhood really was a peaceful place, and they rarely saw their police and medical force in action. Something awful must be happening if three police cars and an ambulance were going by!

As they rounded the corner onto Nectar Avenue, Gabriel, Castiel, and Meg nearly collided with a large crowd that had accumulated just beyond the police tape that was blocking off the whole street. Bouncing off of the thick form of Gabriel, Cas threw out his hands to brake Meg. Holding onto his arm, she tried to peer over the busybodies and down to her house.

Her jaw clenched, and she started to shove aside people with unimaginable force. People muttered at her angrily, but she stomped, kicked, and shoved in order to make her way to the front. Cas glanced at Gabriel, shrugged, and pushed after her, apologizing for the discomfort. Gabriel hissed, and followed after his brother and his friend.

Meg had made her way to the front of the crowd, and was pressed against the crime scene tape. She was arguing with the cop that was trying her hardest to keep everyone away. Cas recognized her from the many times she had to show up at school to prevents brawls and other things (started by Lucifer).

Gabriel and Cas had squeezed their way up to Meg, and could now hear Meg's argument with the cop.

"I'm sorry, miss, but no one is allowed in here. Something terrible has happened, and it's not for the public eye," said the cop in a saddened voice. She saw Meg's tear stained face and naturally felt pity.

Meg looked like she was going to scream, but she contained herself.

"I _know_ something terrible happened! I _saw_ it!"

The cop looked at her quizzically. "You _saw_ it?" She said, her eyes alert and hungry for information.

"Yes! I was the one who called 911! _Now will you let me in?!"_ Meg hissed, clawing at the crime scene tape and sobbing.

The cop looked reluctant. She was biting her lip and looking over her shoulder. She looked down at Meg's broken form, but still said nothing.

Cas walked up, putting an arm around Meg's shoulder. Seeing his best friend in such a state had been too much for him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was quivering from the cold and the pain. "Please ma'am. Her sister has been hurt. Her little sister," He said quietly, his voice wallowing in a plea.

The crime scene tape of imagination was lifted and Cas was shoved back into reality.

* * *

"Right?" Ruby squeaked, looking over at her mother.

Mrs. Masters nodded. She stood up, and walked over to Ruby. Standing behind her, she rubbed her shoulders soothingly, gentle removing the girl's massaging hand. Ruby leaned back into her mother, her eyes shining and afraid. Mrs. Masters planted a kiss on her daughter's hair.

"Of course, sweetie. The police will make sure nothing bad happens to us ever again." She said, the sugar in her voice somehow not managing to disguise her worry. Ruby seemed not to notice, for her shaking subsided a little, and she voluntarily stopped rubbing her side, the stab sight.

Meg's snort was nearly inaudible from next to the kitchen. With a shaky hand, she nibbled a Doritos. She seemed torn between believing that the police would take care of everything, and that her mind could be at peace, or believing that the police would not help, and that Lucifer would strike again. She made eye contact with Cas, and she had fear chained there. Cas's heart twanged. He had just been able to heal Meg of her fear and her pain. Now, that all meant nothing. No one felt safe. No one should feel safe.

"Meg?" Mrs. Masters said, addressing her oldest.

Meg nodded wordlessly, and disappeared behind the wall that Mrs. Masters and Ruby were leaning on. Cas heard her pick up the phone.

Cas picked up his backpack, and hauled it towards the kitchen. Plopping it on the oak table with a reverberating thud, he looked over at the sink. Gabriel was holding the counter, hunched over as if he was going to throw up. He wasn't suffering from any illness that Cas knew of, so he had to have been worrying. Gabriel often leaned on furniture whenever he was severely concerned. Having something hard and tangible beneath his fingers was something of a reassurance.

He turned at the sound of Cas's heavy backpack. What he saw was a glimpse of the past. It was as if Gabriel himself hadn't aged, but Cas had done the opposite. Cas looked to be eight or nine years younger than he was.

An eight year Cas stood before him, his blue eyes seemingly too large and too soft for his head. His hair was messy and disheveled from a long day at school full of Meg-hair-tousling. His mouth was a thin line, and he hugged his jacket close to himself. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked at Gabriel pleadingly. His oversized navy sweater complemented the image nicely.

"We'll be OK, kiddo," Gabriel said warmly, squeezing Cas's shoulder in a caring, fraternal way.

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. He pressed his jacket closer to himself.

Cuffing the same shoulder, Gabriel moved past Cas and went back out into the living room, probably to confer with Mrs. Masters.

Serious voices echoed from the living room and Cas's mind.

* * *

"Alright. But please don't touch anyth-"

Meg was already shot out from beneath the tape, running as if the devil was chasing her. As Gabriel and Cas sprinted after her, dodging police officers, they knew that he wasn't. The devil was AWOL, as far as anyone knew.

Someone had slashed the street apart. The tranquil peace that fluttered like a butterfly had been burned by a venomous flamethrower. The screams of the peace that withered and burned was infused in the police car sirens as more cops showed up to the gruesome scene before them.

They reached the Master's house just in time to see a young girl be lifted into the back of an ambulance. She looked skeletal; an oxygen mask was strapped tightly to her thin face. She was stiff, and her eyes were loosely closed. Her face was drained of all color, and her shirt was dyed a dark crimson hue by some sort of liquid; they all knew what it was. She was so stiff…so small…so delicate…so stiff…

_She couldn't have…_

_Did she…?_

Meg had stopped, and had begun to sway violently. Cas's hands darted out, and firmly grasped her shoulders. She jerked out of a hazy, pained state, and looked at the ambulance. Her mouth was open, and her eyes appeared to be melting. Blue and red flashed across her face, illuminating the red of her eyes and the blue of her coat. Holding her shoulders and peering over her head, Cas watched as the figure of the girl was pushed into the gut of the medical vehicle.

His eyes moved over to two figures leaning against a close by police car. Both were wrapped in brown shock blankets. Cas recognized them instantly, and gently pushed Meg into their direction. Meg followed the gentle press of his fingers, and stumbled towards the blanketed figures; her parents.

Gabriel pulled Cas by his coat after Meg, and Cas went willingly. The three of them stumped towards the adult figures, burdened by sinking anguish and choking pain.

It was a hurricane of emotion and words.

"They won't let us ride in the ambulance,"

"Say they need their space,"

"But we have to be with her! What if she wakes up and we're not there-!"

Then there was sickening silence. The five of them knew that Ruby wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon. They all had seen her, how corpselike she had been. Her fingers were still erected into a claw, as if protecting herself from her long-gone assailant.

It was a day of firsts for all of them. It was the first time any of them, besides Mrs. Masters, had seen Mr. Masters cry. He was a thin man, but an emotionally strong man. He had the same harsh tongue and spunk as Meg, and here he was, crying with his wife and daughter, praying that Meg wasn't about to be his only daughter.

It was the first time that Gabriel had also cried, though his was the more silent type. Gabriel, although seemingly a careless jackass, was deeply affected by the emotional scene before him. Cold, salty tears flashed red and blue in the revolving lights of the emergency vehicles around him. He was standing awkwardly to the side. He knew the Masters, but he wasn't as close to them as Cas. Gabriel did not react well to violence at all. He would clam up and hide, just as he was doing right now.

For Meg, it was the first time she had been so scared she felt like she was literally going to pass out. Sure, she had had some panic attacks where she felt overwhelmed and nervous, but none of them compared to this. She could feel the blood vessels in her eyes pulsating as her heart beat as fast as her father was driving after the ambulance towards a dark place that was full of artificial lights and eerie heart monitors…

For Cas, it was the first time he had to squeeze into a five small person car, while he, Gabriel, and Meg were all large teenagers/young adults. He was practically lying on top of Gabriel, and he was squishing himself into his corner as much as he could. Trying to breathe as his lungs tightened, he squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

The crunch of Doritos yanked his eyes open.

Meg had finished her call, and had taken to pacing the house with a dead light guttering out in her eyes. She chewed the chips mechanically, and she moved as if she was programmed. Her eyes were focused on some unseen object, and as she moved, her eyes didn't move from that invisible object. Was she also envisioning what had happened on the lawn just outside the very house she was standing in?

"You alright?" Cas murmured quietly, padding over to her.

Meg set down the Doritos bowl next to Cas's bag. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes off her imaginative vision.

She shook her head. Folding her arms over her chest, she licked her lips. She was determined to not make eye contact with him. She swallowed with difficulty, and licked the cheese off her fingers.

"This is going to be hard for all of us," Cas continued, trying to make eye contact, but Meg didn't want to give in. She just licked her orange finger tips and nodded. She was in no mood to converse with anyone. She was bottling up again, even though Cas had warned her of the disadvantages of doing that.

"Meg, I don't think anything will happen to Ruby, not this time," He said, his voice masking a plea. _Talk to me! Say something, please! I need to know you're alright!_

"How do we know, Clarence? We didn't know _last_ time," Meg hissed quietly. Cas nodded to himself. Meg was definitely afraid. Meg lashed out in anger whenever she was afraid, nervous, or stressed. She couldn't help it. Over the years, Cas had learned to deal with Meg's way of dealing.

Cas sighed sharply, and looked to the ceiling. He himself was becoming agitated. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Hearing Cas's quiet, deep, and caring voice was too much for Meg. One fat tear crawled tentatively down her face, tainted black by mascara that failed to be waterproof. She rubbed at an imaginary spot on her chin, still looking out of the corner of her eye. Her frown was dead.

Cautiously, Cas took his hands out of his pockets, and moved ever so slightly forward, arms slightly outstretched. They asked the question that Meg wanted them to ask; _need a hug?_

Meg stepped forward and leaned her head on Cas's chest. Through the warmth of his soft sweater, Meg heard the reassuring tempo of his heart. Like the quick rimshots of a snare drum, Cas's heart whispered gently in her ear. Meg closed her eyes, her hand slightly curled up on Cas's chest, her fingertips rubbing into his chest. His arms wrapped around her, stroking her long, dark hair, Cas swayed back and forth. It was soothing for infants, and it was soothing for the both of them. Meg felt like she could fall asleep right then and there as a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit her. Breathing in his nice, familiar scent repaired her frayed nerves. Cas's breath was warm in her hair as he muttered kind words that she had a hard time hearing. But it didn't matter. The tone was good enough for her.

* * *

Meg had fallen asleep. Crying was evidently an exhausting thing for her as well. In the near empty waiting room outside of the surgery room sat Cas, Meg, Mr. and Mrs. Masters, and Gabriel. Gabriel was quite used to being up late. He wouldn't be able to sleep for quite a while yet. He was hunched over on the edge of his seat, his elbows on his knees, attached to folded hands. His chin rested on his hands. A lollipop from the little bucket next to him stuck out of his mouth. His toes were keeping a beat to a song only he could hear. His eyes were blank.

Mr. Masters was trying to read one of the magazine they kept outside for entertainment. It wasn't very entertaining, in his opinion. He had spent an hour trying to read the first article. His eyes and ears kept darting towards the steel doors a few yards to his right. Occasionally he would look to his restless wife and sleeping daughter, as well as Cas, who was practically his only son.

Mrs. Masters was also trying to read a magazine on women's health. She had never read anything that was so mundane in her life. She read each sentence five times, but nothing stuck, so she gave up and tried the next sentence. She too kept looking up at those doors, but they remained as emotionless as ever. They probably lived on the tears of broken souls, the bastards.

Meg had tried to stay awake, but swollen eyes and exhaustion from running rampant from place to place had proved too much for her. She had fallen asleep around midnight, according to Cas's watch. She had curled up on the couch next to Cas, leaning on his shoulder and holding his forearm. Cas could feel her twitching as she slept. He was dozing off himself, his head sinking lower and lower until it was resting on Meg's head. Their breathing matched one another, until they inhaled and exhaled at the same time.

Cas kept jerking awake because he thought he kept hearing the door opening. No, it was Gabriel getting another lollipop. No, it was Mr. Masters shifting in his seat. No, it was Mrs. Masters accidentally dropping her magazine on the metal table. No, it was Gabriel opening yet another lollipop. No, it was Meg muttering to herself in her dreams. No, it's not the door, and it wouldn't be the door for a long time. Go to sleep.

* * *

"I'm tired, Clarence."

Cas jerked out of his doze. He wasn't the only one who was about to sleep standing up. The tired hands of Monday afternoon had caressed the pair; both of their eyes were heavy. Cas held Meg by her arms, and he nodded. "Maybe you should go take a nap," He suggested, leaning over to the table and grabbing his backpack.

"I have schoolwork to do,"

"Yes, I suppose you do…Go on up. I'll get your bag." Cas said, gently turning her and steering her out of the kitchen. He watched as she dejectedly walked up the stairs, not looking back.

As Cas scooped up Meg's bag, a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw Gabriel standing before him,. His face expressionless.

"I have to get going or I'll catch hell from my boss," He said to all of them.

"Be careful, Gabriel, and thank you for telling us." Mrs. Masters said in a weary voice. It seemed as though Monday had visited them all and coated them in his sleepy dust. Ruby was already curled up on the couch, her head resting on her mother's lap. She nodded in response to Gabriel's words.

Gabriel cuffed Cas's shoulder one last time. "See ya, little bro." He said, and loped towards the door. He opened it.

* * *

The door squeaked as it opened. Cas and Meg jerked awake at the same moment. Meg bumped her head on Cas's jaw, and she growled in annoyance. Rubbing his eyes, Cas looked towards the door. Recalling where he was, his heart quickened, and his sleepiness was swept away by some invisible broom.

Gabriel nearly choked on his lollipop as the door unexpectedly opened. He stood up, along with everyone else.

_She couldn't have…_

Now was the time to find out.

_Did she…?_

That was the question everyone was too afraid to ask.

The doctor was a young man with dark hair and pale skin. His eyes were light, but his hands seemed heavy. His expression was frustratingly unreadable. They needed facial expressions. They needed to know the news before he told them. They needed to know what the verdict was now. 

Mr. Masters had his arm around his wife. His eyes were huge and hungry for an answer he was afraid of receiving. Meg was still squeezing Cas's forearm. He swallowed, and tore the doctor apart with his gaze. The air was tense.

* * *

"She'll be alright,"

Cas had entered Meg's room, dragging two heavy backpacks with him. Meg was curled in a slight ball, leaning against her bed. She was playing with a battered model T-rex. Cas smiled softly. That T-rex was just a part of his childhood as it was Meg's. Warmly, he pushed all of the worried, sad thoughts out of his head and ushered in all the times he and Meg had played together with that very T-rex. But, the more he thought about that, the faster he worried, and Ruby filled thoughts entered his head once more.

Shaking his head like a weary hunting dog, Cas plopped Meg's backpack onto her bare feet. She jumped, and stuffed the model dinosaur back under her bed, where the rest of her old toys were stored in dusty boxes, along with dusty memories. She moved her hand so that Cas could sit down next to her. He frown as dead as before, she tossed a pencil at him, which he deftly caught.

"You keep saying that, Clarence, and I keep trying to believe you…but…" Meg said, trailing off.

"But you're worried about your sister." Cas finished, poking her cheek with his pencil. Meg grinned a little for a split second, a spark of the old Meg breaking through the mask for a few precious tenths of a second.

"And that's perfectly understandable. If _my_ sister had ever gotten stabbed, and I figured out her alleged stabber was on the loose again, I'd be nervous too," Cas murmured, but his arm around Meg. She nodded, looking at her toes, which she wiggled in an attempt to amuse herself.

Cas reached out to his backpack, and pulled out his chemistry homework. More work on moles, and not the fuzzy kind. Sighing one of the most depressed Monday sighs Meg had ever heard, Cas picked up his calculator.

* * *

His pencil skittered over the paper. His cold hands gripped a clipboard, and he looked up at the five exhausted, nervous people before him. The doctor himself was tired. He had performed an operation on a little girl who should be nowhere near an operating room. She should be safe at home with the family he saw before him. How scratchy her breathing had been. How dully her eyes shone. How disturbing were her mutters as he and his team of nurse set about fixing the jagged hole in her right side.

"…Well…?" Mr. Masters finally uttered, his voice shaking.

The doctor, whose name was Emmanuel, watched the people before him as a wave of sympathy drowned him. He saw the girl's parents, eyes orbs of hope and fear. He saw an older sister with swollen eyes and dry lips, gripping an older brother's arm. He looked like he was going to collapse from fear and tiredness. However his eyes were alive, and surveying the doctor from scrubbed head to toe. An even older brother, or perhaps a friend, was standing next to the parents, his lollipop making him appear less intimidating as she glowered at the Emmanuel, as if challenging him to give bad news.

Reviewing his clipboard, and his fresh memories, Emmanuel allowed a reassuring smile. As soon as he did, the room seemed to shake with one collective sigh. The younger brother's knees nearly buckled, but the older sister had a firm grip on his arm, and made him keep his balance. The mother covered her mouth and she took in a sharp breath. A fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks, but they smelled of relief and joy. The older brother pushed his long hair back, and whistled between his teeth and . The father squeezed his wife in a hug, murmuring prayers aloud, prayers of thanks, prayers against the flat line that could have sounded in the operating room as his youngest passed.

"Your daughter is out of surgery, and she's stable. She should be fine." Said Emmanuel, tucking his pencil behind his ear. His heart warmed as he watched the little brother and the older sister hug, rocking back and forth. She was sobbing and he was crying out in tender relief. The two turned as the older brother approached them. The little brother embraced him first, his face a ray of sunshine. Opening his eyes, he beamed at Emmanuel, his eyes alive with love and joy. He closed his eyes, and burrowed his cheek into his brother's neck. The sister hugged them both, almost circumnavigating them with her arms. Almost.

"Thank you so much," The father said, coming to shake his hand. Emmanuel took it, not surprised at the enthusiasm behind it. He had seen many men cry before, but his heart went out to this one. Never before had Emmanuel worked with a stab victim, much less a young girl not yet out of junior high, probably. It was one of those cases he would remember for the rest of his life.

"M-may we see her?" The sister asked in a voice with so much strength that the doctor was startled. He blinked at her in wonderment.

He was hesitant. "Well…She is going to look different…And she won't awake for another few hours, I would imagine…" He murmured, clipping and unclipping his clipboard repeatedly.

"So? We want to see her," The older brother said, opening another lollipop while he threw away the stick of his old one.

Emmanuel smiled a bit. "I understand…However, ICU isn't for everyone…It takes guts and a strong mind…" He said. He remembered the first time he had stepped into ICU. That was also an experience he would never forget.

"We want to see her." Declared the little brother, his eyes still dancing under happiness and joy's direction. His voice was elated, yet firm.

Emmanuel took his pencil from behind his ear, and his pencil skittered across the paper once more.

* * *

Even more tired than he once was, Cas placed his pencil behind his ear. Moles burrowed around in his head, although not the furry, tunnel building ones. He slumped his head back on Meg's bed, and jumped when a hairy warmth slumped into his neck. Meg had decided to take a nap after all, although she probably didn't plan on it, judging by the half finished sentence on her English homework, and a pencil that lay slack in her hand.

Cas sighed. Now he couldn't move; that was the only downside of having people leaning against you. If he moved just the slightest bit, Meg would wake up and move away. And then his right side would be cold. That chill was always the worst.

Moving his foot, he kicked his backpack closer to himself, trying to pull out his Latin homework. Opening his bag with one hand, he stuffed his Chemistry things back inside, and yanked out his Latin things. He wanted nothing more than to sleep at four o' clock Monday afternoon, but there was work to be done. Thankfully, all he had to do was translate English words into Latin, and then put them into charts. That was easy.

He tapped his pencil against his paper, trying to remember all of the declensions that were hiding deep in his tired mind.

* * *

A regular rhythm of noise echoed in their ears. The monitor chirped every second or two, pealing out coldly and emotionlessly every time Ruby's heart decided to take a beat.

Emmanuel had not been lying. Ruby certainly did look different. And ICU certainly did require guts. Even Meg, probably the toughest of the five, felt her stomach gurgle in discomfort. The only reason Cas was standing the shivers shooting up and down his spine was because he had to be there with Meg. The sight of all the tubes attached to Ruby, his little sister in his mind, was unsettling and upsetting. Even though he felt joy that she was alive, he cried because she was not well. Damn that heart monitor! How cold and uncaring it was! Be a little sensitive!

Ruby was paler than Cas, a feat to be admired. Only her cheeks were showing color; colored by another person's blood. Cas could barely see her under all of the tubes that were keeping her alive. Her breath rattled quietly, but she was undoubtedly breathing. That was a good thing.

Gabriel was sucking on his lollipop, his face pale. He had been to the hospital once before, and that was to come and check on Cas when he had broken his arm and had been driven to the ER by the Masters family while he was at work. He hadn't liked the hospital then; this was a thousand Cas filled ERs smashed into one malicious monster. Gabriel didn't like to say he was afraid of hospitals, just that he had a strong dislike of them.

Cas looked around at Emmanuel, who was standing at his shoulder. His blue eyes were beholding Ruby, and they were laced with sorrow. Cas could see that the young doctor was deeply affected by the case. Cas would have reacted the exact same way. Emmanuel's eyes darted over to Cas when he noticed he was being looked at. His heart reached out for the boy, whose blue eyes shone even brighter blue when they were washed with tears.

Emmanuel sighed. His clipboard dropped to his side as he let his arms fall. Cas saw eyes with dark circle similar to his own. He glanced at his watch that hung loosely against his thin wrist. It was 2:04 in the morning.

"It is unsettling, isn't it?" Emmanuel said in a quiet voice.

Cas looked over at the bed that encased the broken young girl. "It certainly is," He responded, running a hand through his hair. Judging by the state of it, the boy had done that many times before.

"I always say that they should make heart monitors with a happier sound. I find that beeping to be most unsympathetic and depressing." Emmanuel said, hugging his clipboard to his chest once more. Cas turned to look at the doctor, who was frowning and bobbing his head with agreement of his own words.

"I thought the exact same thing." The boy said with a small smile, turning back to the sister, who needed his arm for emotional and physical support. The strong girl in the waiting room was slowly starting to trickle away. She was being overwhelmed by emotional breakdown. Emmanuel had seen it many times before, and decided to leave the family with their daughter and sister.

* * *

Castiel looked towards the door, and he pushed up his glasses that had fallen down his nose as he sank into a sound sleep. He sensed that someone was looking at him, and had awoken immediately.

Mrs. Masters was leaning on the doorframe to Meg's room. Her arms were folded, and for a second Cas thought she was Meg, they looked so alike. Meg's shoulders always hugged her neck when she was concerned, just as Mrs. Masters was doing now.

She blinked when she noticed that she had woken Cas. His eyes were huge for a moment, and then he blinked, as if realizing that he was safe. Then his eyes seemed to drop from exhaustion, as if his eyelids seemed weighed down by boulders. Fighting to keep awake, his head kept jerking up to keep eye contact with Mrs. Masters.

"Go back to sleep, honey. I just wanted to check that you guys were alright." She whispered, the words just barely tickling Cas's eardrums.

Cas nodded, and pushed up his glasses.

His head drooped.

* * *

A trickle of water woke Cas up for the fifth time that night. Gabriel certainly was thirsty. He'd have to go to the little bathroom that was down the hall eventually. Maybe he already did, but Cas was too deep in sleep to notice. Either way, the more he thought about it, Cas had to use the restroom himself. Anything to get out of this dreary waiting room.

Meg was particularly heavy when she was asleep. She was in REM sleep; Cas was woken up a few times to her eyelashes tickling his neck when her eyes twitched. Her brow was furrowed, and her lips stuck out as if she was pouting in her dreams.

Gently, Cas eased himself away, catching her before she slumped over and hit her head on the metal armrest of the sofa they were occupying. She snorted air through her nose like a bull, and growled. Cas gulped, and stood stock still, until Meg's breathing was regular again. He then leaned her against the back of the sofa, making sure she didn't slide either way and hit her head.

Whisking down the hallway, he passed Ruby's room. The door was slightly open. Peering through the crack, he saw Emmanuel standing by her IV rack. Ruby was starting to get more color in her as the transfusion blood explored its new home. The monitor was still depressing, but it was becoming more regular. Emmanuel pushed on a syringe so that a clear liquid entered a tube that was attached to the young girl's arm, putting some sort of medicine inside of Ruby. Emmanuel then straightened the blankets, making sure they were hugging her comfortably. Cas smiled to himself, and continued down the hall, towards a sign telling him that the men's restroom was just behind this door.

As Cas was in the restroom, Gabriel's brain was working overtime. Perhaps that's why he needed so much water. He watched as the rest of the Masters family began to fall asleep. But he couldn't sleep. His brain was tormenting him, not allowing him to doze. Chewing on his lollipop stick, his brain reeled.

Lucifer had always been a bad kid. How many phone calls had he taken, calls from a teacher complaining of something he had done? It seemed countless. How many fire alarms had he set off? How many fights had he been in? How many suspensions, detentions? Too many. How many times had he vented his rage on Cas? That was where Lucifer crossed the line. That was where Gabriel and Michael both screamed at Lucifer. Although Cas didn't know it, Michael loved his little brother dearly. The second any of Lucifer's arguments involved Cas was the second Michael ended the argument.

But Gabriel never thought Lucifer would turn this sour. Still, there was some doubt. Meg had certainly not been at a good mental state of mind when she saw her little sister get stabbed. Perhaps she said it was Lucifer purely because he was the only bad guy she could think of. It was dark on Nectar Avenue, the street the Masters lived on. How could she see him? The place where Ruby had been stabbed was in the shadows between streetlights. Perhaps his brother was innocent…?

Gabriel knew his chances were as dim as the crime scene.

How he wanted for someone to reassure him that Lucifer was innocent. How he wanted for some sign from his father above. He loved his brother, no matter how flawed he may seem. Even though he did almost kill his brother's best friend's sister, he still loved him. It was the curse of being a caring brother. Lucifer couldn't give two shits about him. But Gabriel would never stop caring for his sibling.

Rubbing his eyes and sighing, Gabriel tried to get his mind off fraternal issues. It was all too much for his brain to handle. He couldn't stand the thought that his brother had almost turned into a killer. He'd just have to wait for Ruby to wake up and tell him whether or not Lucifer was indeed the monster who wielded the knife that pierced not only the girl's guts, but also the peace of mind of an entire neighborhood.

Gabriel rested his head on a fist, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come and take him away from this hospital waiting room with magazines even more boring than the ones outside the operation waiting room.

In the dark of the night, rain began to fall. Banging against the window with watery fists, the rain howled to come in. Listening to the curses made Gabriel sleepy. Something pounding with a continual rhythm was soothing, and it fixed the frayed ends of his frazzled nerves. Lightning flashed behind him, roaring at anyone who would come close to hurt him. Thunder purred a short while later, hugging the anxious 23 year old as he fought the monster that was his mind.

Before Gabriel drifted off to sleep, listening to the rain, he saw Cas pad silently back into the room. His hands were thrust deep into the pocket of his maroon sweatshirt. Sneaking back to the sofa where Meg was sleeping, open mouthed, he settled down. He took off his dirty sneakers and socks, and wiggled his toes to amuse himself as he waited for sleep to take him.

Through eyelids slowing sinking downwards, Gabriel watched as Meg suddenly jerked awake. She blinked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at Cas, startled. His eyes were huge. He gave a tiny, swift wave, which she returned after a few seconds' startled staring. Yawning, Meg stood up, and stumbled over to the water fountain. Licking dry lips, she gulped down a Dixie cup of cold water. As she went back to the sofa, the water machine gurgled.

Meg sat back down, and she and Cas just stared at one another, eyes blank. Gabriel saw Meg's chest heave a sigh, and she too pulled off her shoes, tossing them aside next to Cas's neatly lined up pair.

Cas moved his arm to the back of the sofa, offering her a warm place to sleep. Meg nodded slightly, and curled up in the crook of his arm, her eyes closing and her frown returning. Cas murmured something before kissing her on the forehead, then resting his head on hers, he too closing his eyes. Gabriel grinned a tiny bit, and finally closed his eyes.

* * *

Mrs. Masters closed the bedroom door and watched as her son and her daughter were embraced once more by that peaceful guardian: sleep.

* * *

Stealing out of the room as quietly as possible, Emmanuel shut the door to hospital room 245.

Emmanuel leaned against the door, his eyes gently closed as he breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Mrs. Masters leaned against the door, her eyes squeezed shut as she wheezed a sigh of fear.

Fear. Exhaustion had a new companion. A companion that caused dry eyes to become bloodshot as they stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the echoes of the past that only Death could silence.

Only the echoes were no longer echoes.

The echoes were coming back to life, as if Death wasn't even trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers! Having a good read? I'm sorry if this chapter is a tad confusing; the transitions are meant to be sudden and alarming. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them! Thank you all for sticking with me and my little fic. We've reached over 200 hits! Thank you so much! Also, happy birthday to my friend a_thousand_fathoms! As always: Questions? Comments? Requests? Please let me know! Happy reading! (UPDATE!!! I HAVE FIGURED OUT HOW TO USE ITALICS!!! I have since edited all chapters, so if you wish to go back and read the spiced of version of this fic, please feel free to do so! END OF UPDATE!!!)  
> UPDATE #2, AS OF 4/5/15! I HAVE DISCOVERED HOW TO PUT A LINE IN THE TEXT TO SEPERATE IT! When you see it, assume that the setting/time has changeD. ------ indicates a flashback. END OF UPDATE #2!


	6. Imaginary Ailment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas becomes a trashcan watcher, Meg haunts Tumblr, Sam eats Mac 'n' cheese, and Dean ventures onto the World Wide Web

From the firm fingers of fear, Cas, Gabriel, and the Masters were delivered. Despite the fact that Lucifer was still missing, they were no longer worried. The span of four weeks since his disappearance, coupled with the fact that nothing bad occurred may have lulled them into a false sense of security. Or perhaps it wasn't false. If anything, the air seemed lighter than it had ever been. The sun shone in shades brighter than normal. Emerging eagerly from the earth came tendrils of flowers, grasses, and shrubs. For it was spring! The land sighed as if relieved of some great burden.

Even Cas, who worried enough for three, was relaxed. Was it the warmth in the air? Maybe it was the earthy smell of the dirt that squished under his bare feet. Perhaps even the rain that pattered up and down the street, kicking up the scent of petrichor, had loosened the alveoli in Cas's tight lungs. The freshness and the sunlight had dusted out Cas's brain, and the very season seemed to infuse itself in his step.

Cas had established a new routine. The first few days had been terrifyingly different, and Cas felt that if he took one step in any direction that he would spiral off into some dark void that was about as friendly as a rhinoceros being forced into a tutu. Just thinking about deviating from his routine made Cas's entire existence wonky. His writing seemed to lose structure, and his literary devices suffered noticeably. His drawings portrayed more fear, slashed with chilly colors and screaming about shapes with keen edges and sharp contrasts.

Over the weeks, Cas kept a cool eye on Dean. He was careful to keep an emotional berth around him. That exterior was joking and somewhat kind, but who knew what sort of creature burned beneath his mask? A demon who waited with an evil sneer on its twisted face? Or an angel, who gave upon the world a bright and beautiful grace? Cas sat with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Too many times had Cas opened himself up to someone, only to be crushed. He would never subject himself to such pain again, not until he knew for sure he would come out of the relationship unscathed.

Gradually, Cas's arms began to fall to his sides, and his eyes opened a crack. Dean had weaved himself a place in the Truman High tapestry. After the first normal days of suspicion from the other students, Dean found himself to be surrounded by a troupe of admirers. He was laid back, and very likeable. He worked a spell on everyone in the vicinity; though he had a sharp tongue, he was still kind. Cas knew a spell when he saw one, and had shot back a defensive counter jinx. Little by little, however, Dean proved to be too much. Cas had lowered his shield, though not all the way.

How could he not? Dean had proved to be a gentle person. Had he not stood up for Cas, when no one but Meg had done so previously?

* * *

It wasn't often that Cas got picked on. The chances of him being teased increased tenfold when Meg was not present. Cas was not accustomed to violence, and never in Truman High history had he broken his calm and quiet demeanor. He was quiet, and had an aura of softness. He hated eye contact, and walked with a hurried, nervous gait. In other words, he acted like prey.

Meg had been absent one day, a rare occurrence. Dean had snagged Cas by the tree before he had a chance to head inside alone.

"Hey, where's Meg?" He had asked, running fingers through his disheveled hair. He smirked at Cas, his fox like teeth piercing the darkness of his mouth like spears.

Cas nodded at those teeth. "She's sick," He said. Meg herself hadn't personally told Cas, but he knew her calendar. It wasn't worth working himself up worrying at this time, when the moon was at its brightest. Meg was usually absent around this time, and Cas felt exceedingly grateful that he didn't have to suffer the same few days every month.

Thus, Dean and Cas were by themselves. They walked to class together, and both were kind of relieved that Meg wasn't bickering with Dean or anyone else who wronged her. Meg's aggression was a nuisance sometimes, especially when Cas had to break up potential fights. Cas hated breaking potential fights. Which was why he didn't tell Gabriel that he had had a good day when he returned home from work.

Cas and Dean were walking to lunch, stopping off at their lockers to grab books for their afternoon classes. They had plenty of time; no cared that students were late to lunch. Their loss, really. The hallway was gradually thinning out, the blood cells of the school rushing to their assigned places. Cas knelt down beside his locker, and was mildly surprised when Dean sat down beside him. He watched as Cas put in his combination.

As Cas opened his locker, Dean said "23-41-4,"

At first, Cas was confused, but he soon caught on, and grinned at him. "Not even close, Dean," He chirped, pulling out his chemistry binder and placing it on the floor beside Dean.

Dean hissed. "Nah-ah, you're lying," He said, picking up Cas's binder and playing with the corner. His eyes were on Cas, as if waiting for a reaction. Always with the grin! The grin was a huge portion of his spell work.

"You can try after I shut my locker. I can assure you that you're wrong," Cas said, laughing as he did so. His smile lit up his face like a dream.

Dean beamed at Cas, closing his eyes as he did so.

But that beam faded quickly as a sneer faintly pierced Cas's laugh.

"Hah, faggots!" muttered a small boy, probably a freshman, with greasy, dark hair and malicious, beady eyes. His eyes darted over to his equally shady looking friend, and they sniggered as they went past.

Cas stopped smiling, but continued to pull binders out of his locker. He was used to being called all number of names, 'faggot' being only one of so many. Cas had learned that he could do nothing about it. To display annoyance or hurt at being called such things only caused pleasure in the hecklers. So he decided to ignore it, and by ignore he meant he would dwell on it as he tried to sleep at night. Thus was life when one suffered from anxiety.

Cas's eyes flew open in alarm as he saw a blur of plaid as Dean leaped to his feet. Cas's feet scrabbled on the ground as he tried to get to his feet to prevent an argument. His eyes were fixed on Dean. His anger was a sight to behold.

In a few precious seconds, Cas saw the shadow of Anger fill up Dean's eyes. It was as if the entity had lifted Dean a few inches off the ground, for the teen towered higher than he ever did. Pure hatred radiated off him in fiery waves, and Cas knew instantly that his friend was near homicidal. The demon inside Cas cheered, egging Dean on, begging for the hecklers' demise.

_"Hey!"_ Dean growled, and he strode with fearsome confidence at the boys, who looked like mere ants beside him. An image of a lion with an amulet strung around his mane stalking star struck hyenas with greasy head fur and baggy sweatpants flashed in Cas's mind. He would have liked to look at the image longer, but he pushed the thought away. He tripped over his backpack in an effort to race after his friend. _"Dean!"_ he called, untangling his foot.

The boys had paused, sneers still on their faces. Those sneers faltered when they saw Dean, fueled with fiery fury, stalking towards them, his hands clamped tightly into fists. They took a step back, eyes swiveling back and forth.

Dean stalked right up to them, his face shadowed, his head many inches above the tallest boy. The lion pulled a Mufasa, and roared above them. Cas shook his brain again. "You want to say that to us again?!" Dean snarled, his eyes twitching.

Cas had finally caught up to them. _"Dean, stop!"_ He shouted, his voice soaked in more fear than anger. He saw a fluttery hornbill with a sweater and glasses fly up in his mind, wings pumping frantically. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it as hard as he could.

The taller of the two boys cackled. His eyes flickered with a lust to shame and mock. "Oh that's _adorable_. Look at your boyfriend, getting all _flustered_." He cooed, his teeth yellow as he laughed. His friend joined in, his tone laced with malice.

"What are you, _stupid?!_ " Cas hissed, his eyes huge. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Dean or the kids, because dear _God!_ Why would you want to infuriate _this_ guy?! 

Dean wrenched his shoulder away, leaving Cas's fingers to squeeze at thin air. Within two seconds, he had slammed the kid against the wall, his teeth and snarl within inches from his nose. Cas heard the kid's spine pop, and his head smack sickeningly against the tiled wall. The kid looked terrified now. _Good! He'd better be!_ Screamed Cas in his head. Part of him wanted to slam the other kid against the water fountain, but…what was he thinking?!

Cas had to strain his ears to hear what Dean was saying, and he was glad he made the effort.

"You insult him in front of me, and this faggot will smash your brains in." He hissed, his words turning into an ugly growl. Cas could see his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he crushed the kid beneath the wall. The kid squeaked, as if to confirm Cas's suspicions that Dean was in fact smothering him.

With a jolt, Cas leapt into action.

_"Dean! Let him go!"_ He barked, grabbing at Dean's shoulder, and yanking as hard as he could. He nearly lost his footing as Dean stumbled backwards, reluctantly releasing the kid's shirt. Cas wasn't sure who looked more terrified, the kid or his friend. Seeing them so scared of Dean made a warm sense of…pride well inside him. Or was it something else?

Dean glowered at the kids. _"Get out of here! Now!"_ He roared, advancing forward once more.

Laughing their heads off, the kids sprinted down the hallway.

Dean watched them go, breathing heavily, and was startled when a heavy force yanked him down a hallway he knew was a dead end, and only had a janitor's closet. He grunted as Cas pressed him against the wall, the smaller boy glaring up at him, his eyes blazing with sapphire fire. Dean's eyebrows raised in alarm as he felt the unexpected power in Cas's arms. He looked at that inferno in his eyes, bewilderment splattered on his features. "The hell are you doing, Cas?" Dean hissed.

"I could ask you the same thing! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Cas snarled. He quickly pushed up his glasses, which had become lopsided on their adventure. His breath came in bellows through his nose like an infuriated bull, and his mouth was tight. His eyes seemed a darker shade of blue.

Dean was nonplussed. "Um, defending you?" He said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. He gripped Cas's wrists and gave a push that made him wonder why he was even trying.

"I don't need defense, Dean! I get that all the time! It never bothers me!" Cas hissed, his eyes still burning. Dean was really wondering where Cas stored all of that strength. It was a strange sensation flowing through him.

Dean breathed out sharply as he broke free of his daze. "…People have called you that before?!" He demanded, his eyes beginning to burn as well. Eyes a darker shade than normal glared at one another for a few precious moments.

Cas sighed sharply, and decided to let Dean go. His arms fell to his side in a defeated gesture. If he was a cat, his fur would no longer bristle, and his ears would raise.

"Of course. How else would I know how to react properly?" He murmured, not looking at Dean.

"You call doing nothing reacting properly?" Dean asked, amazed

"You call screaming in the hallway and smashing a kid against a wall reacting properly?" Cas shot back.

Dean looked amazed. "Yes, I do. Cas, that's what we call _harassment_." He said.

"Is it harassment if it's tr-" Cas started hotly, but he cut himself off. A blush radiated on his cheeks, and he glowered at Dean, as if he had been the one to call him a faggot.

"Is it harassment is it's what?" Dean pressed.

Cas just shook his head wearily. "Nothing, Dean. Just…Just don't start a fight because of me, OK? I appreciate your loyalty…I don't know why you would do such a thing just because someone called me a faggot…" Cas murmured.

Dean stared at Cas incredulously. "He called us both faggots, Cas." He reminded him.

Cas blinked. "Both?" He asked.

Dean ignored him. "And you're my friend, Cas. Friends keep an eye out for one another." He said, his cheeks tinted pink. He swallowed, and turned the corner to retrieve his duffel.

Cas fluttered after him, his face flustered and confused.

"He called _you_ a faggot?!" He huffed as he reached his locker, finding Dean leaning against the cold metal with a hand over his eyes.

"Yeah, Cas. That don't matter; he was being a bigot, and damn right I smashed him against a wall," Dean growled.

Cas gulped. "Dean, are you-"

"Drop it, Cas," Dean hissed, his voice laced with smoking venom.

Cas's eyes and the subject fell to the floor. He never brought it up again.

* * *

Cas had huffed in acceptance as Dean smashed his way into his life. Besides, how many friends would do such a thing for him? Soon, he settled back with enjoyment as Dean continued to joke and laugh in his life. Though he trusted Dean, his trust in Dean was nowhere near as strong as his trust in Meg.

Cas smiled as he thought about his new friend, and thicker became his artist's block. Before him sat an incomplete sketch and a slack pencil.

Petrichor wafted in from a window propped open with an action figurine. It had been raining all day, and neither Cas nor Meg felt the desire to go outside. It was a day cloaked in a thick sheet of clouds, and even though it was three in the afternoon, it looked to be at least six. The pair were content enough to just bask in the cool dampness of the air circulating in Meg's room. It was Saturday. Cas had worked a morning shift, and Meg didn't have work until six. Lazing about felt nice. The pair didn't even need to talk; their very presence was enough.

Meg was on her stomach on her bed, a laptop in front of her, her face bathed in eerie, fluorescent light. Cas was sitting at the desk positioned at the foot of the bed, a pencil scratching the drawing pad that groaned in pleasure. His fingertips were dusky from shading his sketch. Rubbing the stubble that was coating his cheek already (he had shaved this morning), he tilted his head to inspect every angle of his drawing. He grimaced.

Meanwhile, Meg had turned up the volume of her laptop. She knew the expression on his face; he was dissatisfied with his artwork. Listening to music always steered him on the right path. She could only imagine putting in so much effort into to something, only to end up hating it.

"What kind of picture?" She asked, looking over her red laptop and peering at Cas. He was stroking the stubble on his jaw, his bottom lip jutted out. His eyebrow raised and lowered in repetition.

He looked down at the paper to check. "Um…Sort of…Majestic…?" He said, shrugging as a sheepish grin tugged at his mouth.

Meg smiled. "OK. Majestic music, coming right up."

"You'd best not 'Rickroll' me again,"

Meg looked offended. "It was the most majestic thing I could think of."

Cas snorted, shook his head, and returned to his drawing. "Or, Tumblr is getting to you. Why did you let Abaddon get you into that hell?" He asked.

Meg shrugged, peering at her screen once more. "I don't know. We were dating. You do shit to please your significant other, Cas," She said, her keyboard clacking.

"Sounds difficult," Cas said with sympathy. He had little idea as to what she was talking about.

"You'd be pretty good at it, though." Meg said, hitting one final key.

Cas leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry?" He asked.

Meg grinned as quick music poured out of her laptop. Propping it up with a thin book to better release the sound, she looked at Cas once more.

"I mean, you don't have a special friend like that, but you'd be good at it. That's what I meant." She said, grinning more as familiar music mingled with the cool air.

Cas shook his head as he recognized the tune. The only reasons why Meg liked it was because it was by her favorite band and bank tellers were mentioned in it. However, Cas got a bit worried because the bank tellers had their banks robbed in the song, and he wasn't sure if Meg was planning illegal shenanigans. Either way, he had to admit, it was putting him in an artistic mood.

Meg started lip-syncing the song, wiggling her arms and feet in an attempt to dance as she lay on the bed. _Put on your war paint!_ She cried, pretending to smear paint on her cheeks as she flipped onto her back.

"I'd be good at having a special friend? Don't you mean…" He said, and he swallowed uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat, looking back at his drawing, a battle raging in his mind.

He jumped as Meg leapt up. She was in one of those moods, he guessed. He knew the feeling; that little twinge in the throat, that chilled desire to burst out into song. Just now that cold liquid want was tickling his vocal cords. He knew the words to the song as well as any song. He too enjoyed singing along, and Meg found that he was physically capable of doing so. She knew Cas would never sing, not if people were in the house. Fortunately for them, Mr. Masters was out with a few friends, and Mrs. Masters and Ruby were out clothes shopping.

Turning up the music louder, Meg watched as the spring air seduced the nervous, quiet Cas, and released this bird that sang with the strength of voice of a raven, and the sweetness of a sparrow. Meg always liked listening to Cas's rich tenor voice. Within minutes his feet were propped up on the desk, his torso leaned over the back of the chair, and he sang at the ceiling, his teeth bared into a grin. Her somewhat-out-of-key-but-we're-not-going-to-say-anything alto and his tenor worked well together, and over time they had created a natural harmony.

Weaving through the rain, lyrics and pure comfort echoed.

_"Hey young blood! Doesn't it feel, like our time is running out?"_ They crowed together, smiling and laughing between breaths. Cas looked over at Meg, and initiated the call and response. This was Meg's favorite song, so they had sang it many times. _"I'm gonna change you,"_

_"Like a remix,"_ Meg pealed out, her arms hailing the ceiling.

_"And I'll raise you,"_ Cas crooned.

Together they sang _"Like a Phoenix!"_

Next came an impersonation of orchestral music, which was where they broke into fitful laughter and somewhat gross snorts. At this time, Meg had slid off the bed and was laughing on the floor, and Cas was thrusting his chair back and forth, holding his stomach and wiping back tears of laughter.

What was there to worry about? He was alive with his best friend, and not even the dreary drizzle outside could dampen their spirits. Looking up at Meg upside down as he leaned over his chair, Cas purred in happiness. She had come to stand behind him, and was poking his stubbly cheeks. Smiling in adoration, she squished the dimples that appeared on his face, like dents in cream.

Cas grabbed Meg's arms, which were drumming on his forehead, and swung them all around. "Meg!" He said, looking up into a face that wasn't listening.

Meg continued to dance around, letting Cas swing her arms in any direction he pleased.

"Meg! Meg, Meg, Meg, Meeeegggggg…" Cas whined, his voice going up in pitch.

Meg continued to sing and dance around, too absorbed in the song.

_"The war is won, before it's begun,"_ Cas could feel Meg dancing and she began to swing his arms to the beat of the music.

"Meg, Meg, Megan Masters…"

_"Release the doves, surrender love!"_

"I have a girlfriend," Cas said, trying to capture Meg's attention.

_"The war is won, before it's begun…"_

Cas hissed in frustration, and in pain as Meg yanked his shoulders nearly out of their sockets. Taking a breath, he said,

"I have a boyfriend."

At once, Meg stopped swinging his arms. Looking down at the frightened face before her, she blinked. Clapping his hands together to the beat of the Phoenix and rapidly speeding up, she bared her teeth into an excited grin.

"What?! It's Dean, isn't it? Please tell me it's Dean." She said, clapping his hands so hard that they hurt. She had an insane gleam in her eye. His hands were turning pink.

She watched in glee as a furious blush blossomed in her friend's cheeks. His brow furrowed, and his eyes bulged, his jaw jutting out and his lips protruding. She felt his grip on her arms grow stronger.

"What?! No!" He said in a voice that involuntarily went up an octave. He took his arms away, and sat up. Ferociously, he pushed up his glasses, turning in his seat to glare at Meg more. "I was only kidding, so I could get your attention!...I don't like men!" He growled in the voice he used when he was embarrassed. It was so easy to see past his defense.

Meg looked disappointed, tapping his head once in dejection.

Cas stood up, and furiously tousled his own hair until he look disheveled and angry. Meg found his anger to be adorable, and she smirked. She skipped off to her laptop. Then again, she had never seen Cas _angry_ before. Slight annoyance was one thing; pure anger was something Meg just couldn't associate Cas with. Not Cas! Never!

"What are you smirking at?!" Cas demanded, and Meg heard him push his chair under his desk.

"Oh nothing, Clarence," Meg said cheerfully, and she flopped down on the bed, smiling at Cas from lying on her back. She crossed her ankles and folded her arms behind her head, beaming at Cas with an expression that said she knew something that he didn't.

Cas stood over her, watching in annoyance as her face smirked cheekily. He was squinting, and Meg knew he was doing some quick thinking.

"…Why would you want it to be Dean?" He asked quietly, in a tentative voice.

Meg snorted, scratching her stomach absently. "Because you'd be good for each other." She said, nodding her head in agreement of her own cliché words.

Cas, who had been looking at his toes, shot her the blank look he shot people whenever he was having an intense internal struggle.

"But Dean…he's…he's a…guy," Cas whispered, poking Meg's cheek.

Meg sat up, pulling her laptop onto her lap. She looked up at Cas in consternation. "Point being?" She asked, typing on her keyboard as she continued to look at Cas. So good was she at typing she didn't need to look at the keyboard or pay any attention to what she was typing.

Cas jerked his shoulders in a shrug, and smiled. His hair fell over his forehead, and he looked down to shove his hands into his pockets. His jaw outlined in the lamplight behind him, he looked even cuter when he blushed. Still in a teller's uniform, his blue tie reflected his blue eyes, and Meg would be damned if she didn't say whoever found their significant other in Cas was one lucky son of a bitch.

The strange thing was that Meg never felt that way towards Cas. She never felt attracted to Cas in any way. Anyone asking Meg whether or not she was attracted to Cas was like someone asking Meg if she was attracted to her own brother. Dating was simply unthinkable and a hilarious thought to the friends.

Which was why the way they reacted to Dean's question was perfectly reasonable.

* * *

Cas, Meg, and Dean were all sitting at their lunch table. Dean and Meg had their feet on the table, talking to one another about sports as Cas hunched over his drawing pad. Dean always wondered what he was working on. Always scribbling on that damned thing! Every time Dean ever got near him, Cas moved his hand. It wasn't even a voluntary movement anymore. Cas just naturally angled himself away from prying eyes.

However, that day, Meg leaned back in her chair. "Whatcha drawing, Clarence?" She asked, smiling sweetly.

Cas had angled himself away again, the shadow of his right palm covering his drawing. Dean saw him grin slightly, and he held up his drawing. Dean was sitting on Cas's right, so he couldn't see the drawing he was pointing at Meg on the left.

"I like it," Meg said, frustratingly revealing not a single detail. Dean saw Cas's head bow in modesty. His profile was outlined in the shadows of the broken light above their heads. Even in the shadows, Dean saw Cas blush.

"You're adorable, Clarence," Meg said, tousling his hair, Cas batting at her lightly. Suddenly, Dean could take it no longer.

"Are you guys dating or something?! It's been drivin' me nuts for…since I got here!" Dean snapped suddenly, annoyance sparking in his tone.

Meg and Cas gawked at Dean, but only for a second. They then turned to gawk at one another, and Dean saw Meg's face crease into a smile. Suddenly, they both roared in laughter. Cas's pearly teeth clawed at the shadows, and his tenebrous hair seemed to melt into the surroundings. His Adam's apple bounced up and down in merriment. Dean blinked, confused.

"Geez, how many times have we been asked that, Clarence?" Meg squeaked between giggles, looking at Dean with shining eyes.

"Oh, an innumerable amount of times," Cas replied, shocking Dean by putting his feet on the table. It took Dean a moment to realize how large Cas's feet were. He always imagined Cas to be, well, _small_. They were nearly as large as Dean's own feet. He shook his head, clearing his mind.

"What?!" He spluttered, confused.

Cas began to explain before Meg did. "People always think we're dating. Frankly, the question has become wearing. We should give out FAQ pamphlets," He said, pausing. Meg took up the line.

"We got a…whatchamacallit, Clarence? You got a fancy name for it…" Meg said, snapping her fingers and staring at Cas blankly, trying to recall a word that perched teasingly like a fledgling on the tip of her tongue.

"Queerplatonic relationship. It means, like, a strong bond sort of abnormal for friends but there isn't anything romantic or sexual going on," Cas explained, looking at Dean with shining blue eyes. His warm expression and smooth movements calmed Dean down instantly. He found himself to be smiling too, as if Castiel was pouring a bucket of warm liquid the color of his eyes down his throat. It was a great sensation.

* * *

Meg grinned as the memory, as well as an idea, stole across her mind. She heard the faint grumble of a hungry tummy.

"I'm hungry." Cas whined in a demanding tone. He hadn't eaten anything since the cherry lollipops they had at the bank. He poked Meg in the stomach, a pout forming on his face.

Meg smacked his finger away, and rubbed imaginary stubble on her chin.

"We have to make a ship name for you and Dean." She announced confidently, ignoring Cas entirely. Just thinking about a ship name made Meg feel cozy on the inside. Cas, not knowing what a ship name was, shot her a blank look.

Meg had a grin playing on her face. "A ship name Clarence; it's a nickname for a couple you want to start dating. Like, if we were together or someone wanted us together, we would be called…Ceg, or something." She paused, and looked at her dresser, her face twisting in confusion. "No, that's gross…Megstiel. Our ship name would be Megstiel." She said brightly.

Cas nodded as realization dawned on him. "Oh! It's a combination of the peoples' names. I understand." He said, smiling in triumph. Meg laughed as she watched the triumph drain from his face, swiftly replaced by terror. Quickly, he went to the desk to gather his belongings.

"Deastiel." Meg said, airing out some ship names. She shoved her laptop off her lap, her eyes dancing as Cas stuffed pencils in his pencil case, refusing to make eye contact with her.

"No." He hissed. He massaged his stomach to try and ease the hunger away.

"Cean." Meg sang out as she followed Cas, and then put on an expression she would wear if an elf had crawled into her throat and decided to lodge itself into her windpipe.

"That's gross," They both said at the same time. Cas shut his sketch pad, and began to walk towards the door. It seemed as though all of the blood was rushing to his face as he flushed red, his lips pressed tightly together to prevent a smile from erupting into bloom.

Meg stood in front of him, her hands on his chest as she pushed him in the room. How many times had she done that, but in vain? Cas only had to lean forward slightly to deflect her. Suddenly, she gasped, and looked up. Her eyes glimmered in the lamplight.

"I got it."

"Oh, lovely. I'll be on my way now."

"Destiel. _Oh my god_ , that's it!" She crowed, a grin splitting her face like an axe split wood.

Cas groaned, and tried to push his way past Meg, but she was a persistent little bastard. "Stop it, Meg…" He hissed.

"Destiel! I ship it so hard," Meg laughed, and she dug her feet into the rug as Cas pushed harder. He looked angry, but his dancing eyes said otherwise.

"Oh, what, ship is a _verb_ now?!" Cas growled, doing a little dance from foot to foot in an attempt to cross the threshold into the hallway.

"Cas likes Dean! Cas likes Dean! _Caaasss likes Deeeaaannn…_ " Meg's singsong taunt rang in his ears.

"I do not!" Cas cried out, his voice portraying hurt as Meg cackled like a deranged hyena.

As last resort, Cas's hands darted out towards Meg's sensitive sides, and he began to tickle her. Her laughter cut off faster than lightning, and he eyes bulged out her head. Meg's first instinct upon being tickled was to throw herself at her attacker, which was exactly what she did. Cas yelped in alarm as the chunky girl heaved herself into his frame, and he grunted as he lost his balance. He fell to the carpet with a thump, his rear quickly becoming sore, but he had shielded Meg from the fall.

Meg, still squealing, curled up in a ball and quivered as Cas still continued to tickle her. He rumbled in enjoyment, ignoring Meg's pleas to stop. She was hitting the carpet with one fist, and she was shoving at Cas's face with the other. He squeezed his eyes shut as she grabbed his face and held it there, her fingers splayed over his cheeks and forehead. Her laughter melted like gold into the rain.

As tenacious as the rain, Cas did not give up tickling. He felt a warm feeling coursing through him, and he still smiled, despite the hand assaulting his face and his aching smile muscles. Meg was still squirming, and was threatening him with vile threats, but the happiness was ill concealed.

Finally, Cas began to get tired, and he stopped. His arms hung useless at his sides, and he sighed, pushing up his lopsided glasses. He propped himself up with his right arm acting as a support beam, his left arm resting on Meg's side. She was still giggling into his shoulder, her arms tangled around his neck.

"Fuck you," Meg murmured, kissing him on the temple.

"I asked you to stop. I had very few options," Cas replied, resting his chin on her shoulder.

There was silence for a few moments. "I don't like guys that way, Meg." He said quietly.

"Yeah, Clarence." Meg said, still grinning. Cas wasn't sure if he heard disbelief or not. He chose not to continue to argue. It was pointless.

Cas's stomach roared. "I'm _hungry!_ " He squalled.

"OK! What are you, the Blob?" Meg grunted as she stood up.

"Perhaps I am growing again," Cas suggested, grinning.

Meg glowered as she pulled on a sweatshirt. "If you grow…I will grab a chair, stand on it, and beat you with a stick to assert my dominance." She growled.

"I'm terrified."

"Good. You should be. C'mon, let's go to KFC or something," Meg said, opening her sock drawer and pulling out one red sock and one blue.

"I'll buy," Cas said, pulling some money he had just taken out of his account at the bank out of his pocket.

"Good, because I'm broke as fuck," Meg said, stuffing her foot into her boot.

Pulling out the action figure from the window and stopping the flow of cool air, Cas fixed the tie he was still wearing. At first, Cas had hated ties. He felt like a noose was being wrapped around his neck, but they were a requirement for his job at the bank. Now, it felt funny not to wear one. He didn't even feel it anymore; only when it got caught in doors and on people did he notice its presence.

As they walked out onto the porch, Cas pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and Meg locked the door. Meg neglected the hood and they walked out into the rain that was no longer a drizzle. A steady shower fell on their heads.

They were silent for a few seconds. Then, Meg giggled. "Destiel," She sniggered.

"Shut up, Meg," Cas snapped.

"I'm just saying! It's going to happen. If it doesn't happen, I will flip shit,"

"Well…What if Dean doesn't want it to happen?" Cas murmured through the rain.

"Why don't you ask him?" Meg suggested, as if that was the easiest task in the world.

Cas snorted. "You don't know just how physically incapable I am of doing that,"

"Well," Meg said, "I can be wingwoman of the year and set you up if you want me to,"

"Who says I want to?"

"Me, duh. And you act like it." Meg said, rolling her eyes.

Before Cas could protest, they both jumped as a flash of lighting lit up the sky. A few seconds later, a rumble of thunder as deep as the rumbling of Cas's stomach followed.

"Shit, shit, shit, run, Clarence! _Run for your life!_ " Meg screeched, flailing her arms wildly as she sprinted up the sidewalk and onto the empty street. The lights in the houses shimmered, their window tightly sealed, oblivious to Meg's raucous singing.

Cas held his hood, and pelted after her, joining her as she sang yet another song by Fall Out Boy.

Zooming in zigzags all along Nectar Avenue, they sang into the rain. Cas's hood flew off as his arms flopped at his sides in a halfhearted attempt to keep his balance. He smiled, and near shouted into the dark sky: _"When Rome's in ruins, we are the lions, free of the coliseums!"_

They narrowly avoided the lone car that drove down the street, the driver totally bewildered when she heard two loud voices crowing in wild voices _"We are, wild. We are like young volcanoes!"_

Lightning continued to flash, and the thunder bellowed as the two happy teens ignored the weather and continued to sing. _"We are wild Americana exotica! Do you want to feel a little beautiful baby, yeah!"_

Cas yelped as a huge bolt of lightning reared like a stallion across the sky, and thunder raged. He and Meg streaked across the near deserted intersection, and burst into KFC. Breathless and smiling, they giggled as they crossed the threshold.

Cas held his knees, breathlessly giggling. His hair was sopping wet with the rain that was now a downpour. They had made it just in time. The rain was falling in thick sheets, and the wind was picking up. He watched a trashcan roll down the street.

He looked over at Meg. "I can't believe we just did that," He gasped.

She nodded, grinning. "Yeah, you hate thunderstorms; you took that well."

"I was terrified!" He said, wiping his glasses dry on his shirt.

Meg looked up at the menu after she shook her head like a dog. She snickered. "Destiel," She muttered.

"No!" Cas said, pushing her slightly.

"Whoa! What's Destiel?" rumbled a deep voice.

Cas's pupils dilated, and the hair on his arms and neck stood on end. Looking over quickly, he saw that he had shoved Meg right into Dean Winchester, his hair sparkling with droplets of rain. His eyes shone right at Cas, and down at Meg and he gently pushed her upright.

"Ew, would you go away?" Meg hissed, looking at Dean with disgust.

"Gross," Cas agreed, smiling as he met Dean's gaze.

Dean blinked as thunder rolled down the street. "Why are you guys out in a storm?" He asked, nodding to their wet clothing and shining faces.

"We just wanted to stand around in KFC," Meg said sarcastically.

"I got you. Sammy did too." Dean said, his hand instinctively falling onto Sam's long brown hair. Sam was looking at them wordlessly. He was a quiet kid around people he didn't know very well. When he was around Ruby, he was as talkative and noisy as any junior high kid. His hands were thrust into his pockets. Cas imagined that when he was younger he probably clutched Dean's pant leg and peered around him.

"Hello, Sam," Cas said, smiling in his direction. Sam broke into a smile, and returned the greeting.

"Destiel is a type of ham or something," Meg said casually, looking towards the menu and not even batting an eye when thunder continued to scream at them from outside.

"Can we get Mac 'n' cheese, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, looking up at his older brother. "Sure, Sammy," Dean responded, smiling. Cas found himself to be smiling warmly, and blushed when Meg coughed a cough that sounded suspiciously like a type of ham. He glowered at her, but he lost the effect when he jumped at the sight of more lightning.

"Storm sure came on quick, huh?" Said the cashier when Meg and Cas went up to the counter. "I'll say. It started pouring when we were walking here," Meg said amicably, ordering a large bucket of fried chicken and some mashed potatoes. Cas put the cash on the counter and they stood aside, waiting for their food.

Meanwhile, Cas was having an internal battle. All this talk about shipping was stirring up Cas's brain stew. His hands were fiddling with his tie, and his eyes were vacant, looking at the thoughts that hopped around in his mind's eye. Although he knew that being different was bad, he knew that he could not deny that he was different. The problem was, how would people react? Would they react as his father would, or would they embrace him? Meg seemed to be accepting enough, but Cas knew from experience that appearances can be deceiving.

His thoughts wandered to all of those nights he lie awake, gazing at the ceiling, a small smile perching on his lips. His eyes relayed all the images he had seen that day; every detail about Dean that he found to be pleasing. Cas had always liked cold colors, but he favored green more than any other when he held Dean's gaze, a gaze that wanted to be held by him. Even though some people thought that freckles were imperfections, Cas enjoyed making imaginary patterns on the freckles that sprinkled Dean's cheeks. The teeth he once found sharp and intimidating soothed him whenever they showed themselves when Dean smiled.

The things that Cas loved about Dean the most was his affable personality, his sass, and his seemingly strong loyalty and protectiveness. He saw it whenever someone insulted any of his friends or his family. Hidden beneath that tough and badass exterior cuddled a teddy bear with a heart of molten gold. That gold shone in his eyes whenever he looked at Sam, and especially whenever he looked at Cas. Was he imagining it? Probably. Over amplifying a person's actions was something one did when one had a crush, wasn't it?

Cas grinned, and nodded, rebellious blood flowing through his veins. Thoughts swirled around his brain like gasoline in water.

_Yeah but Dean…he's…he's a…guy…_

_….Point being?_

_…Is it harassment if it's…true?_

" Clarence, you're being a little obvious," Meg hissed.

Cas blinked, and realized he was gazing at Dean with sparkling eyes and silly grin on his face. Meg stood to block him, holding their food and balancing their drinks. She held food with the grace of a practiced waitress.

They wandered around the restaurant, growing used to the lightning and the thunder. Cas observed yet another trashcan rolling down the street as they found Dean's table; Cas could recognize that leather jacket anywhere by now. There was also a notebook with Sam's crooked handwriting on it.

Meg watched in amusement and Cas sank his teeth into the fried chicken, a faint insane gleam in his eyes as he ate. Perhaps he was growing. His eyes flicked towards the window as lighting flashed once more. He pointed, his eyes huge. "Did you see that lightning streak?!" He said through chicken.

Meg turned to look. "No, I didn't," She responded.

"It was awesome," Cas said, turning back to his chicken.

Meg continued to watch Cas, absently eating a spoonful of gravy dipped potatoes. His eyes were slowly becoming vacant again, and he seemed totally absorbed in the fork that lay before him. He absently pushed up his glasses. His lips twitched like they did when he was doing some serious thinking. So deep was he in thought that he didn't even blink when more lightning flashed in the sky.

"Castiel?" Meg said quietly.

Cas blinked, and his eyes got big. "What?" He asked in a slightly alarmed tone.

"…You know it's OK to be…different, right? To want something…that other people don't normally want?" Meg asked uncertainly. Her eyes were narrowed, and her tongue was rubbing over her canine. She held her drink, flicking the straw with one purple nail.

Cas swallowed, and looked over at Dean, who was walking over and talking animatedly to Sam. He seemed to consider something, and then twitched his eye in a wink in Meg's direction, startling her. What on earth was going on in his head? Cas?! _Winking?!_ He seemed so calm, and…well… _happy_. It was strange, but it was a good strange. Seeing Cas smile at Dean when he sat down beside him made her grin.

Meg was oddly silent during the conversation. It was her turn to sit back and just listen. She was content enough to watch the sparkle in Cas's eyes, and the glimmer that glowed in Dean's eyes. Never before had Meg seen Cas so happy around another person; never before had she seen him experiment with that mysterious temptress called love. She watched as Sam happily ate his Mac 'n' cheese, laughing and joining in the conversation. He and Dean shared the dimples that were created when they smiled. The storm outside did not dampen the lighthearted friendship within.

"Can I go buy some dessert, Dean?" Sam asked eventually, pushing aside his second (and empty) Mac 'n' cheese cup. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, already halfway out of his seat.

"Sure, bitch, gain a few pounds for me," Dean said, tossing him a ten.

"Jerk," Sam said, trotting towards the cashier.

"I'm going to go to the little girl's room. Play nicely, you two," Meg said, standing up, looking at Cas and Dean with stern eyes. Dean smiled innocently, and Cas grinned. Her boot steps were marred by thunder growling.

Dean turned to look out of the window. He became a stark silhouette as lightning made him a sharp black figure. Cas was watching him, sensing he was going to say something. He wiped his mouth on a napkin, and ran a hand through his hair.

Dean turned back to Cas, resting his cheek on his hand. "Have you ever noticed that the clouds are sort of bluish during a storm?"

Cas tilted his head; he wasn't expecting such a question. He looked over Dean's head, and gazed at the clouds. His eyes glowed a shade brighter as more lightning illuminated his face. He saw Dean blink.

"I hadn't noticed." Cas replied, looking back at Dean. He lowered his eyelids, but didn't blink.

Dean took a sip of his cherry soda. "I always liked blue. 'S my favorite color." He said, looking pointedly at Cas. He grinned through his straw, his teeth rubbing against the plastic. "Dark blue's OK, but light blue is the best." He said. Cas didn't notice that Dean had leaned forward slightly. He also didn't notice that he himself leaned forward as well.

Cas smiled, dimples piercing his cheeks. "…I like green better, actually." He murmured, eyes beaming in Dean's direction. He pushed up his glasses, and once more was illuminated by lightning. His jaw was accentuated, and his grin looked roughish in the light. Dean swallowed, content to look at Cas with a warm silence between them.

Cas reluctantly looked up as he felt someone tap his head. Meg had returned. How long had that silence between them lasted? Dean didn't move his head; he only moved his eyes momentarily. His eyes would remain on Cas had Sam not thrown a few one dollar bills and some nickels at him.

Gradually the conversation shifted to school. Sam ate his chocolate chip cake in silence as he listened to the high school students complain about schoolwork, teachers, and people.

Meg was flustered. "Just saying? Abaddon is being a total bitch!"

"What's she done now?" Cas asked sympathetically. He had never approved of Meg's time spent with the red haired girl with nails like claws and teeth looking like she just might have spent time working at them with a file.

"She keeps shooting me dirty looks, and I know she's talking about me. Jo told me she was talking shit," Meg growled, stabbing the bottom of her cup of soda with her straw.

"Is it true you guys went out?" Dean asked. He had no idea that Meg swung both ways and had nearly spat out his drink at lunch when Cas had casually mentioned that Meg and Abaddon had had a 'one night fling,' Judging by the way Cas said 'one night fling', he didn't know exactly what it entailed. However, he didn't seem too concerned when Dean had informed him what it _did_ entail.

"Yes. Problem?" Meg asked in a light voice that crouched in a threat.

"No, no problem." Dean said quickly, stuffing a mouthful of potato between his teeth to stem any further argument.

"Wait, what?" Sam asked suddenly, wiping his mouth. His eyes were on Meg, glimmering with wonderment.

"What?" Meg said, looking at the kid next to her warily.

"You're bi?" Sam asked quietly.

"Sure am, kiddo." Meg said, surveying the crowd proudly. She sat up a little taller.

Sam glowered at Dean. "See?! Other people are bi, Dean!" He said.

Cas and Meg looked curiously from Sam to Dean. A flush had filled Dean's cheeks. "Sam…you…that's not a thing." Dean said uncertainly, his eyes on his cup.

"Excuse me?!" Cas and Meg said at the same time, Meg with the anger that Cas felt.

Sam spoke up, his small face also displaying anger. "Just because Dad says it isn't a thing doesn't make it not a thing!" He said, forcefully stabbing his cake. Cas gulped. John Winchester was a forbidden subject.

Dean hadn't looked up. His fingers were twitching uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He murmured.

"I fucked a girl and a few guys, and you're telling me bisexuality isn't _real?!_ " Meg snarled, making as though to rise from her seat. "Wait, you fucked them?" Sam asked. Meg nodded, still glaring at his brother.

"Meg!" Cas snarled, startling them all. Cas pushed down on her arm, making her take her seat. Meg's eyes burned, but they softened as they saw Cas's eyes.

"…You didn't think it was real, did you? At first?" Cas said quietly, so quietly that Sam and Dean had to lean in to hear. He held her gaze unblinkingly. It was Meg's turn to be uncomfortable. Pink tinged her cheeks, and she stared at the clenched fists in her lap. "…None of us do." She muttered finally.

Cas nodded. "That's right. There is always that sea of uncertainty that we all set sail in." His eyes roamed over to Dean, though he still faced Meg. "It takes time for us to assimilate, but once we do, we are more at peace with ourselves and one another."

Everyone was held spellbound by Cas's quiet, yet strong voice. His gentle gestures and slowly blinking eyes drew their attention in. Though he didn't know it, Castiel was a master at holding attention. Years of silence went into his favor; when the silent one speaks, everyone turns to listen.

"It is not as your father, or my father, likes to think. It is not something a person uses as a 'safety sexuality', or a way to ease themselves from the closet. It isn't a way to attract attention;" from here, he turned to Meg. "look at Meg here; she doesn't attract any attention by boasting about bisexuality." He then turned to Dean and Sam. Sam was looking at Cas wide-eyed, a grin perched on his mouth. Dean's expression was unreadable. "You two didn't known of her bisexuality. I must conclude that your father, and mine, are wrong." Cas said, breaking off abruptly. He was never good at endings.

There was silence over the table. Cas looked around, panic beginning to form in his eyes. He looked at Meg, who was looking a little dazed. He then looked at Sam, who was looking happy, and then to Dean, who looked at Cas…wonderingly? Facial expressions were so confusing.

"I didn't know I needed a talk on sexuality." Meg said finally, lifting her cup in a silent toast and drinking deeply.

"Yeah, well I didn't." Dean hissed, rising from his chair. There was definite anger on his face as he stalked towards the bathroom.

Bewildered, Cas looked to Sam for guidance.

Sam casually flicked his fork. "He always throws a hissy-fit whenever someone mentions stuff like that. I'd stay away; he's going to implode with feelings." He said as if that wasn't something to be concerned about.

"Why'd you bring it up anyway? Planning on doinking a few dudes?" Meg asked, looking down at Sam as he scribbled in his notebook. It was a rough sketch of a dog that became rougher as Sam's pencil came to a screeching, wobbly halt. "No!" He near yelled.

Meg snickered. "Chill, Polly Pocket. I was only asking." She said, laughing as Sam's red face ducked closer to his notebook. "Ruby likes me anyway." He muttered.

"That obvious, huh?" Meg said sympathetically. "Run while you can." She advised.

"I…ship it." Cas said, airing out his newfound knowledge.

"Ram," Meg concurred, nodding.

"No," Sam said, continuing to draw his dog.

"Destiel," Meg hissed in Cas's direction.

"No," Cas said, watching another trashcan roll down the boulevard, feeling sorry for the person who was no doubt running out of trashcans. He listened to the thunder, and felt a bit of remorse. He had obviously made Dean uncomfortable, and hadn't he just openly admitted his bisexuality? He wasn't even sure if there was a name for what he was. Shaking his head, he smiled a bit at Dean as he returned. The anger on his face seemed to be gone, bottled away for further use.

"You guys need a ride home? It's still pouring out there," Dean said, jerking his thumb to the sheets of rain still falling from the sky and the trashcan infested boulevard.

Cas and Meg nodded, Cas pulling everyone's trash towards him and walking away. Sam shut his notebook and pulled his hoodie over his head. Meg casually threw a stray nickel at Dean, and she too pulled on a sweatshirt. Dean growled as the nickel hit him while he was zipping up his leather jacket. Meg toddled towards the door, groaning because of her full stomach, Sam following her with notebook clutched tightly in his hands.

Dean looked up, and saw Cas waiting for him, a content smile on his face. He quickly pushed up his glasses, his eyes wide. They were blue, and a frame of long eyelashes made them wet and affectionate. Dean's breath hitched slightly, and his brain slapped the back of his head. Cas's hands were jammed into the pockets of his jacket, and his head was ducked. His hair shadowed his eyes, eyes that glimmered up at Dean.

"Ready, Cas?" Dean finally managed to say, fishing the keys to Baby out of his pocket.

Cas nodded, smiling, and walked out while pulling up his hood. He staggered as he was battered by the wind, but he managed to stumble towards the sleek black vehicle, huddling with Meg and Sam.

The engine roared with the thunder, and the Impala galloped down the empty boulevard, a trashcan rolling closely behind.

* * *

The Impala pulled into the Winchester driveway, closing her eyes and falling asleep in the rain. Sam shot out of the passenger seat and zoomed into the house, his notebook stuffed under his shirt to keep it dry. Dean however, took his time. His head was swimming in a pool of thought. Dazedly, he walked up the steps, oblivious to the sheeting rain, lightning, and thunder.

The clock on the coffee table said that it was 3:45. He heard Sam's bedroom door slam shut. Sam always took advantage of rainy days; the little oddball liked rainy days because he claimed to be more creative. He's up there drawing something, or writing, or whatever. Dean, on the other hand, found it easier to sit in front of a screen on rainy days.

Dean stumbled over to the kitchen, and plopped down in front of a sleeping laptop. It snarled as Dean opened it and roused it from its electronic dreams. Grumbling, it loaded, and Dean made a beeline for Google as soon as he could. The laptop was cranky, and wouldn't cooperate at first. With an encouraging slap, it picked up the pace.

Dean sat before the search bar and the colorfully lettered Google logo. That black bar pulsed as quickly as his heart. Hs fingers shook as they poised over the dusty keys. Was he going to regret this? He knew that he was different, sick. He also knew that the sickness he suffered from was bad, yet thousands upon thousands of people suffered from it.

He was suffering from an imaginary ailment, something he didn't believe in.

He released his breath, and hastily began to search the World Wide Web. Hunched over the computer, his eyes illuminated by the screen, Dean read and read and read. He hadn't read this much in a very long time. The more he read, the more confused and angry he became.

Dean had typed 'bisexuality' into the search bar.

Later, Dean leaned back in his chair, his mind in a bookish fog. He rubbed his eyes, and tried to soothe a small, sharp pain behind his eyes. Why didn't they teach him this stuff at school? Why hadn't his father told him of any of this? Oh, right, because he's an asshole and a bigot. He forgot. This was…useful. He had no idea he could be attracted to either gender with different proportions. He didn't know people could be attracted to the genders 50/50, or 30/70, or 70/30. He just didn't know. He had been trained to think that straight was the default, and that one day you might magically wake up gay, and people hated you for it.

He blinked, his mind exploding with sparks that had once been black and white. Now, Dean saw things a bit differently. He began to understand what Cas had been talking about, what Meg had been angry about. He understood his brother.

Finally.

He closed his laptop, slightly annoyed that his life beliefs had been wrong.

But he was also slightly relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every fic has that bitch chapter. CHAPTER 6 WAS THAT BITCH CHAPTER. This chapter was so hard to write, I don't know why. In either case, here it is, late, as usual. I'm sorry guys, I am awful at deadlines. Here is my Easter gift to you, if you celebrate the holiday! If you don't, well, here is a normal gift from me! As always, feel free to leave me any questions, comments, or concerns.  
> *NEWS! We have recently hit 300 hits! I can't thank you all enough. Your support is what keeps this fic alive. You are all lovely people!  
> PLEASE READ THIS!!! I am sorry to say that I am going on a small hiatus. Unfortunately, I will be unable to work on this lovely fic. I'm very sorry, but Chapter 7 will be delayed. I'M SORRY, I LOVE YOU ALL. Not to worry! I will complete this fic!


	7. It Starts Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel has his lollipops stolen, Dean performs wildly illegal stunts in the bank parking lot, Meg tries to score with an EMT, and Gabriel finds more ways to make Dean's life miserable.

“Have you heard the news?”

Castiel looked up. That wasn’t something he had learned to expect from a customer. Usually a greeting was the first thing to escape their mouths, and then they launched off into balances and all sorts of financial things, but ‘have you heard the news’? That was, in fact, new. He thought it best to answer truthfully.

He blinked. “No, I haven’t,” he responded. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Dean Winchester leaning on his counter, his expression troubled and his face penetrating deeper into Cas’s personal space. His brow was furrowed and his lips and chin were jutting outwards like the sharp edge of a cliff.

His elbows were on the hard, plastic surface of the counter, and he peered around Cas’s workspace. His eyes darted around in his normal taking-in-every-detail way. He never missed a thing. Cas found it to be both amusing…and something else. It wasn’t something he felt before. A sort of giggle in his thorax, a smile flooding through his nerves like a honeyed elixir. In the sleepy hours of dusk, Cas lay in bed, trying to organize his thoughts and label that emotion. Emotions were always foreign to Cas. He felt, but they had no names. Just when he thought he had felt it all, this mysterious entity came to his door, enticing him with a mellifluous voice and a seductive scent.

Cas shook his head, taking his eyes off of Dean. He then registered just how close Dean was to him. Normally, the counters blocked a customer’s view of anything except Cas himself, but then again, customers didn’t normally lean in far enough so that they could see the workspace. Dean could easily extend his finger four inches forward, and touch Cas’s nose and scream ‘boop!’, as Meg frequently did. Never before could Cas see a customer’s eyes so clearly. He could easily the green threads that were knitted together to make Dean’s irises.

Suddenly, Cas felt a tad bit embarrassed. Just like everything Cas owned, his desk was neat and orderly. Pencils were sharpened and flocking together in a small black pencil holder that boasted the bank’s logo. Next to the pencils was a can of red lollipops Cas kept to give to the children of his customers. A calculator was lazily sitting next to his left hand, and a water bottle was sitting to his right. A notepad had notes on it that Dean did not understand, and a few cartoonish drawings. Cas was oscillating slightly in his wheely chair, and Dean could see his backpack leaning against the wall behind him. Cas was gazing up at him like an alarmed antelope, eyes huge and glowing in a cerulean ray of wonderment.

“Uh…Hello, Dean,” Cas said, hastily flipping the notepad upside down. Dean caught a glimpse of two figures in the bottom right corner of the yellow lined paper. Even in the few seconds of noticing them, Dean could see that they were very well drawn, and Cas must have spent a lot of time between helping customers working on it. He fought the urge to flip over the pad and stare at the drawing concealed beneath, but he knew how Cas felt about his drawings.

“Hiya, Cas,” Dean said cheerily, leaning closer to pluck a few lollipops out of the can. He grinned as he tore the wrapper off of one, sticking it in his mouth. He leaned on his right elbow, his chin cocked to the side so that his jaw was sharply and noticeably outlined. His canine had pinned the lollipop stick against his lip. Cas could smell his breath, a hint of mint and a whiff of chocolate. In normal circumstances, Cas would have moved back. However, his personal space bubble seemed to shrink as Dean grinned at him with gleaming eyes.

“Have I heard what?” Cas asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching. He ran his fingers through his hair, and heard his spine pop multiple times. He groaned, and lifted his arm to look at his watch. 5:30. His shift was over. Dean knew that of course; out of nowhere he occasionally would show up at the end of Cas’s various shifts, snatch a lollipop, and flash a grin. Cas wasn’t sure why; he assumed Dean was just being friendly. Meg sometimes bothered Cas on her off days. Perhaps that was just something friends did. In any case, Cas liked Dean’s increasing appearances.

Dean drummed on the hard countertop with two unopened lollipops. He looked up at Cas, who was reminded that green was indeed his favorite color, and took the candy out of his mouth. He took a breath, but quickly pushed the air out of his mouth. A scale inside his mind was tilting from side to side. He was something Cas had never seen him be: indecisive. Cas watched as a nervous tongue flickered over twitchy lips.

“…Someone saw Lucifer.” He said rapidly, his eyes bulging a little, as if he couldn’t believe what he just said.

Cas had begun to yawn, but was cut off, his breathing hitched. He sat there, his mouth agape from the interrupted yawn. He stared at his friend, and promptly snapped his jaw shut. He banged his pencil against the desk, his eyes hard. Cold water was dumped on his head, an electric shock shooting up from the base of his spine.

“Where?” He demanded. His eyes bulged out of his sockets, and were marred by furrowed brows. His lip jutted out, and he looked both angry and worried. His hair reared like shadowy stallions after being ruffled by fingers that now had white knuckles from pressing against the desktop. He stood up, smacking Dean’s hand away from the lollipop can. Fear was being manufactured into irritation the longer he stood there behind the damned prison that was his workspace.

Cas was angry, and understandably so. From what Dean had been told, he had every right in the world.

* * *

Even though Dean only knew them for a few days, he could tell that Meg and Cas were hiding something. Well, he could tell that Meg was hiding something. Cas was as silent and otherworldly as ever. His third day of going to Truman High was when he noticed something odd. He was still struggling to remember where his classes were, but he knew he had to get to English. He walked up a stairwell that looked slightly familiar. Recognizing the room number at once, he grinned, and saw that he still had two minutes to spare. A record, so long as his watch was working.

He strolled into the room to find a scattering of students. Cas and Meg were not with him because Meg had forgotten something in her gym locker and Cas had left his hoodie in the locker room. Therefore, Dean was on his own.

“You’re a big boy, you can take care of yourself,” Meg had told him, punching him in the shoulder with a blow that surely she thought was a pat. Cas had grinned awkwardly for approximately a millisecond, and then flown after Meg.

He walked in, and he instantly forgot where he was sitting. The teacher, Mrs. Harvelle, had told him to sit wherever, because they were going to change seats soon anyway. He noticed that the students were standing against the wall, even though the chairs were welcomingly empty. He recognized the blonde locks of Jo Harvelle, and sidled up beside her.

“What’s happening?” He asked, looking around the room. Mrs. Harvelle had her feet propped up on the desk. Mrs. Harvelle was indeed Jo’s mother, but if anything, she treated Jo a little harder than the other students. Lucky Jo; she could just ask her mom to help her with any homework. Dean wished he only had that luck.

Jo smiled in his direction as a greeting. “Hi, Dean. We’re changing seats today,” She explained. Her smile was something Dean found charming.

Dean grinned. “Well good, because I can’t remember where I was sitting anyway.” His eyes glowed in Jo’s direction. She tittered a musical giggle.

They both turned when they heard a loud voice from the doorway.

“I’m moving to Paris and I’m taking all the koalas with me. You don’t get any koalas after what you just said, Clarence.”

Cas and Meg had entered the room. Meg had a bright green binder that she did not have during homeroom, and Cas was wearing a dark blue hoodie that complimented his eyes so much that they blushed. He shocked Dean because he was wearing a huge grin. A warm rush plunged down deep in Dean’s stomach.

“You can’t take _all_ of the koalas with you!” Cas whined, in a voice so full of life Dean was certain he was hallucinating.

“I do what I want.” Meg retorted, and looked at Dean and Jo. “’Sup.” She said.

“Do I even want to know what you were talking about?” Jo asked, a grin bubbling on her mouth.

Cas had stopped grinning, only a dusting of a smile on his lips. His soft blue eyes moved from Jo to Dean. When Dean looked at him, his eyes grew wide, and he quickly averted his gaze.

“No, you don’t. What’s happening?” Meg asked, looking around the room and pressing herself against the wall next to Dean. Cas instantly flattened himself against the wall as Mrs. Harvelle barked an order: “We’re changing seats today, guys! Everyone against the wall!”

“Oh,” Meg said, flicking at the pencil behind Dean’s ear.

Dean didn’t notice. His eyes were on Cas. Cas was looking at his feet, his brow furrowed and his lips jutting out in a display of concern. His toes were wiggling in his sneakers, and he kept running a hand through his unruly hair. His jaw was coated in stubble, and it kept clenching and unclenching. Dean knew that Cas was worried, because that was exactly what Sammy did when he was worried.

Meg and Jo started talking about koalas, and Dean stole over to Cas. “Dude, you OK?” He asked, his finger rubbing the strap of his duffel.

Cas’s head jerked into the air, and his eyes snapped open as if he broke through the surface of a daydream and got doused in a shower of chilly reality.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright.” Cas said in the most unconvincing tone Dean had ever heard before in his life. Geez, this kid was worse at lying then Sammy was. When Dean told Cas this, the bespectacled teen only smiled sheepishly. “I never have been talented at lying.” He admitted, scratching his neck nervously.

“I’ve noticed,” Dean said, looking at Cas, feeling an unusual amount of concern flowing through him. Was someone harassing Cas? Meg hadn’t been called down to the principal’s office, so obviously a physical altercation hadn’t occurred. What was bothering him?

“…My brother’s missing.” Cas managed to say after a few moments of nervous shifting.

Dean blinked. Instantly, a wave of pity hit him. A thought charged into his head; what if the roles were reversed, and Dean’s brother was missing? Dean wouldn’t be able to come to school. He wouldn’t be able to do anything but try to find Sam. How was Cas handling this?

“…Oh…I’m sorry, bud.” Dean murmured, giving Cas an encouraging cuff on the shoulder. Cas flinched at the touch.

“Don’t be.” Meg said, joining the conversation, uninvited.

Dean blinked, and looked from Meg to Cas, and back again. “Sorry, what?” He asked, confusion reeling in his mind.

“You don’t know the whole story.” Meg said with an air of superiority, an air Cas did not share. For indeed, the boy stiffened beside Dean, and his eyes flew open in alarm. He swallowed, and stared at Meg, a questioning look on his face. He blinked a few times, and tilted his head from one side to another. Dean watched in annoyed fascination as the two communicated in a language only they understood. Meg rolled her eyes expressively, and flicked her hand in a careless gesture.

They were silently arguing about whether or not to tell Dean ‘the whole story’.

“Fifteen years later,” Dean pressed.

Cas nodded sharply. “Yeah, my brother isn’t exactly a role model. He…he’s done some nasty things.”

“What kind of nasty things?” Dean asked. His attention was captured.

“I don’t know, stabbing my sister.” Meg snarled.

Cas, Meg, and now Jo watched as Dean’s face flew through different expressions. At first, he just blinked. Next, his eyes had flown open is shock when neither Meg nor Cas had said something like ‘I’m joking’ or ‘Just kidding’. His eyebrows did a sort of crazy dance as he fumbled with what was said. He ended up with the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth, his expression voicing alarm, concern, and disgust.

“Wait, if he stabbed your sister, how is he missing? Did he like, escape prison or something?” He blurted out, urging Meg and Cas for answers.

Cas shook his dark head grimly. “No. There wasn’t enough evidence to tie Lucifer to the scene. There was only one eyewitness account, and that wasn’t enough to incarcerate him. He had an alibi, evidentially, but everyone is convinced that he was the one to do the deed.”

Dean stared at Cas. This was the most he had ever talked to Dean. Alas, it was too good to last, for he only said a few sentences for the rest of the day. He only stared at his wiggling toes, his mind probably spinning with all manner of thoughts.

Dean only wished he could penetrate the folds of Castiel Novak’s brain, for he wanted to see what occurred inside that mysterious and undoubtedly disturbed head.

* * *

Dean watched as Cas pulled on his trenchcoat, and stormed through the little door in his counter. He was furiously polishing his glasses on a little blue cloth, and his eyes blazed in Dean’s direction. Dean had never seen Cas without glasses before, and it was a little odd seeing him that way. Still, he wasn’t complaining. He looked as nice as he did before, although a bit more flustered than he normally was.

“Where?” Cas repeated, wriggling his arm about until Dean held the coat up.

“I dunno. Meg just texted me from work. She probably texted you.” Dean said, holding up the other side of the coat so Cas could insert his arm into the sleeve with ease.

Cas thrust his hand into his trenchcoat pocket. “I put it on silent because I’m at work…” He said, turning on a phone that seemed to be from dinosaur days.

“You need a new phone, Cas.”

“It does what I need it to do,” Cas replied defensively, pressing a few buttons, his face lit up by the small screen.

Dean watched Cas as he tried to walk and text at the same time. He stumbled in the direction of his boss’s office. While Cas signed off of his shift, Dean was thinking. He didn’t even notice the look on Cas’s boss’s face when she saw Dean and Cas together. He didn’t notice her face when he grinned at Cas, and Cas gave him a small smile in return.

Finally walking out of the bank, Cas gave Dean the latest. “So, apparently, one of Lucifer’s old classmates saw him, and he knew that Lucifer was a bad person, and tried to get the police on him.”

Dean looked confused as they wound down the sidewalk and to the parking lot behind the stately building that was the bank. “…I thought Lucifer couldn’t get arrested because he stuck Ruby.”

Cas nodded, putting his phone away. “He couldn’t. He’s done other stuff that he could get fined for. He’s…very good at hiding himself…” Cas said, his brow furrowed in the same expression of worry he had worn when he had first told Dean about Lucifer and his misdeeds.

“OK, so why would he suddenly pop out of the shadows and be like ‘hey! Here I am! Arrest me!’?” Dean asked, voicing Cas’s thoughts.

“Who knows. Lucifer doesn’t do anything without a reason, as irrational as those reasons are sometimes.” Cas said, running his hand through his hair again.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they made their way to the Impala, which was sunning itself like a sleeping cat. The sun was out longer this time of year; spring was here, and the season was one of the only ones who could convince the sun to stay out a little longer. Trees were budding and tulips were swaying in an uneasy breeze.

Cas opened the door to the passenger side of the Impala. He smiled softly to himself as he heard the unique sound of the door slamming shut as he pulled at it with his fingers. He recalled the first time he had been invited into the sleek and powerful beast.

* * *

“Need a ride home?”

Cas looked up much as he had done when Dean had asked him if he had heard the news about Lucifer. Only this was weeks back. He saw the same quirky face above him, the same sharp teeth in that same cheeky grin. Eyes snapping and sparking, Dean was looking positively confident. Cas could feel his coworkers looking curiously in his direction. Cas never had visitors, besides Meg.

Cas leaned forward so he could peer out the glass doors behind Dean. Wincing, he saw that rain was coming down in sheets. Suddenly, he could hear rain drumming on the roof. He had been too absorbed in his work to notice. His watch telling him it was 5:30, he rose.

Aware that the red haired girl, Charlie, was listening to their conversation intently, Cas gulped. Charlie was very nosy, and it had taken him a ludicrous amount of time for him to explain to her that, no, he was _not_ dating Meg, and no, he had no desire _to_ date Meg. Her mind would instantly assume that Dean was Cas’s secret lover, and he was not his secret lover; not even close. Cas knew he didn’t swing that way.

“…I…Is it too much trouble? My house isn’t far of a walk…” Cas mumbled quietly, his face burning as he avoided eye contact. His social senses were becoming overwhelmed. Oh, how he wished Meg were here! How could he talk to Dean Winchester? What would he say? Why was he asking if Cas wanted a ride? Was he purposely freaking him out? Did he know that Charlie would pester him for another five months?

Dean cocked an eyebrow, turned to look at the same rain Cas was looking at, and looked back at him. Damn him! How can Cas disagree with Dean? His spell was beginning to work its magic. Cas was becoming powerless before him.

“Well, I’d hate to be driving around and find you half dead out in the cold and misery.” Dean said with a grin.

“I’d never be half dead out in the cold or misery. I have the sense to stay out of the rain.” Cas responded.

Out of social panic, he consented to a ride. He said goodbye to Charlie, whose mouth was pursed shut to prevent a smile from breaking loose. He was sentenced to months of haranguing after this. He then went to check out with his boss. Floundering his arm around until Dean held up the coat, the two went outside. Cas started to trot, and had to tear after Dean as they streaked through the rain. Dean looked over his shoulder and slowed his pace so that he was close to Cas.

They ran over to the Impala, their feet thundering on the pavement at different times. Cas’s tie blew behind him in a gust of wet wind. The squeaking creak of the door filled Cas’s ears, and he fell into a leather encased seat, the door squealing shut behind him. He breathed a quick sigh of relief, and fixed his tie.

When he heard Dean’s door slam shut, he jolted out of a rainy daze. He gulped, well aware that Dean was waiting for his reaction to the car’s interior.

Cas had been inside many a car, but he never saw a car with an interior like this one. Leather coated the seats like a worn, cracked, and comfortable skin. The car had an old car smell, infused with the familiar stench of cigarettes and a whiff or two of whiskey. Under normal circumstances, Cas would instinctively curl up in fear at the smell of liquor and tobacco, but this was different. Memories of long nights at home didn’t pop up in his brain; in this environment, it was soothing. There wasn’t an iPod jack, like in Gabriel’s car; instead, there was a slot where cassettes were inserted, and under his seat, Cas kicked a box that rattled with said cassettes.

Cas turned, and looked into a welcoming back seat. Given a blanket and a pillow, it wouldn’t be too bad of a bed. It was as worn as the front seats, and it currently housed Dean’s duffel. Cas tossed his backpack so that it landed beside the tattered bag. The two bags whispered to one another, and Cas turned to Dean, who had a small grin of a person who had seen people gape at his car before.

“…Nice car,” Was all Cas could say.

With a triumphant grin, Dean made the car roar to life, and barreled out of the parking lot, leaving behind exhaust and Castiel’s fear.

* * *

Cas’s backpack landed once more with a thump next to Dean’s duffel, and the two had a joyous reunion. Cas loosened the tie around his neck, and lay his head back on the seat, breathing in lungfuls of cigarette and whiskey odor. When Dean didn’t open his car door, he peered out the window. He jumped as a fist knocked urgently on the window, and he saw Dean running in the opposite direction

Cas blinked. What happened? Where was Dean going? Obviously Dean was trying to get his attention. His heart rate went up. Something wasn’t right. Suddenly, the Impala didn’t feel as welcoming. Cas pushed her door open, and leapt out, his eyes roving wildly as he looked for Dean.

Dean was on the other side of the parking lot, beside an old white Toyota, and he seemed to be opening the door to the driver’s seat. Cas slammed the Impala’s door shut, and tore over to his friend. The uneasy breeze grew in strength and nervousness.

When Cas reached the Toyota, Dean was holding a small, bearded man with firm hands on his shoulders. The man was tiny compared to Dean. His face was clothed in a scruffy brown beard, and he seemed to have a permanent layer of dirt on his skin and his clothes. His pale eyes rolled wildly in his sockets. He was trembling hard from head to toe, his hands pressed against his temple as he whimpered. Dean stared at him, confused and slightly terrified.

“What happened?!” Cas demanded, glancing from the man to Dean.

Dean shrugged. “…I just saw him, like, shakin’ in his car…Is he having a seizure?!” Dean asked, his eyes huge. He inched away from the man, his hands still on his frail, shaking shoulders. There he was, being indecisive again.

Cas was torn between running towards the bank for help, or staying here with Dean. He needn’t worried, however, for the man suddenly snapped his neck upwards, his eyes still huge. He blinked from Cas to Dean, his breath billowing out of him like flames. Cas wrinkled his nose as he smelled old alcohol.

“…Uhh…You OK, mister?” Dean asked warily, experimentally taking his hands off the trembling shoulders, waiting to see that the little man didn’t fall over.

Cas was unnerved by those pale eyes, those eyes that flickered over to Dean. Both of them shivered when the man spoke, in a high voice, scared voice.

“…Do you know Lucifer Novak?”

Dean stiffened and Cas turned a shade paler. They looked at one another from the corner of their eyes. They just stared at the man, mouths too confused to form words. Cas did not recognize this man to be one of Lucifer’s friends. Maybe he was a plainclothes cop? An epileptic plainclothes? Cas decided that honesty was the best policy.

“…Yeah, he’s my brother.” He only blinked when he heard Dean growl of disapproval.

The crazed man’s eyes roved over to Cas. His breath crawled out of his mouth like demented adders, coiling around Cas’s face and squeezing him in such a suffocating embrace that made him feel dizzy. His claw-like hand clamped onto Cas’s arm, and he did not let go, even when Cas recoiled. He didn’t like being touched, especially by a stranger who was probably drunk and missing a few marbles.

“He’s back, isn’t he?!” Rasped the man, his unblinking eyes boring into Cas’s eyes. Cas’s lips had curled into a disgusted and scared snarl. He tugged at his arm, but still the man held him. Cas’s eyes grew wide, and he was pinned by such a fierce light in the man’s eyes. He felt like an animal in captivity. A wild desire to flee overwhelmed him.

“Please, let go of me,” Cas begged, his heart rate increasing and fear lacing though his veins. He began to squirm, his slender fingers trying to pry himself loose, only to recoil at the touch of that scaly, cold skin. This man could have a weapon on him! He could want to hurt him, or Dean! Cas began to writhe as much as the man’s eyes did. He let out a thin whimper.

“Oh, boys, you sure are in for trouble. He’s back, and it has only begun, and you, boy…” The man said, staring right into Cas’s face. He edged closer, and Cas felt like he was about to cry. The terrible breath made his eyes water, and the teeth were too close. It was so different when Dean was close to him, or Meg! He wrenched his arm, but the man had the persistence of a bulldog. For such a short man, he was strong!

But not as strong as Dean, who bodily shoved the man away from Cas. He reared up to full height, glowering at the man, his face fire personified. A growl escaped his chest, and Cas could nearly feel the vibrations radiating from his ribs.

The man pointed a shaky finger at Cas from around Dean’s thick form. Apparently, Dean’s display of dominance had done nothing to deter him. “You’ll suffer the most, I fear. He’s out for revenge, he is, he’s out to hurt you!” He whispered, his voice curling into an ugly screech. He began to bounce in a way that made Cas flinch and inch closer to Dean.

“What are you talking about?!” Cas cried.

“Who _are_ you?!” Dean roared.

The man giggled, and Cas moved closer to the strong form before him; the form backed closer to him likewise.

“I’m nobody, but...they call me Chuck. It starts today, boys…It starts today…”

Then ‘Chuck’ stumbled back into his car.

Cas and Dean stared, horrified for only a few moments. Then Dean grabbed Cas’s arm, but his grasp was much more welcome than Chuck’s, so Cas went willingly across the parking lot as Dean dragged him towards the disturbed Impala.

They both plopped into the seats, the air eerily quiet. Cas was staring at the dash, his hair wild from the wind and his eyes huge. He could still feel the memory of Chuck’s cold hand on his arm. He shivered, and rubbed his wrist furiously. He quickly looked over to Dean.

“What?!” was all Dean said. It wasn’t a question; it was an exclamation of confusion and anger.

“…Was that man intoxicated?” Cas asked, his nerves still fried.

Dean shrugged his shoulders aggressively, and turned the key to the Impala. Instantly, it purred to life. He rolled down the windows to let in the warm, fresh air. “That, or he was tripping balls. Let’s get out of here; I got the chills.”

Dean made the Impala roar, and they did a wildly illegal U-turn. Cas was sure that it would leave marks on the pavement, and that Naomi, his boss, would get furious. Oh well. He wanted out as much as Dean did.

However, they had to come to a squealing halt as several scout cars flew down the street, sirens screaming. “What the fuck?!” Dean said, slamming his foot down onto the brakes with a blow that would have torn a baseball bat in half. The car reared up on its front wheels, squalling in annoyance. Cas, nerves frayed enough as it was, involuntarily squealed, and planted his hands on the dashboard. His blood beat his eardrums, his teeth bared in a scared grimace.

Both Dean and Cas leaned forward to look at the cars racing down the boulevard. Other cars darted to the side of the road to let the authorities by. Suddenly, his blood ran cold as a curdling voice reach his ears.

“It’s starting, boys! It starts today, Castiel Novak!”

Dean and Cas both whipped around in their seats, and saw Chuck pointing at them, cackling with glee. His eyes were sparking wildly, even from this distance. Cas had had enough. He couldn’t look.

Cas leaned back in his seat. “He knew my name,” He breathed.

“That’s it, I’m done,” Dean said with a note of finality, fleeing from the craziness behind him. The Impala stalked out onto the boulevard, and followed Dean’s command.

“ _He knew my name, Dean!_ ” Cas said loudly, looking over at the driver.

“Coincidence,” Dean growled, his eyes on the road.

“In my experience, there’s no such thing as coincidence…Where are we going?” Cas snapped, looking around. This wasn’t the way to his house, nor Meg’s. They were heading in the same direction as the scout cars.

“What d’ya say we go see what those police cars are up to, huh?” Dean asked, shooting a wolfish grin in Cas’s direction.

“Did you even consider that that is, in all probability, a very bad idea?”

“Look, Cas, that guy said ‘it starts today’ and he was pointing at those cars, so I intend to see what ‘it’ is.”

Cas was flummoxed. “You’re taking the word of a hallucinating, intoxicated man sitting in a bank parking lot?!”

“Call me crazy,” Dean said. He looked over at Cas’s amazed expression. “What? I’m bored!” He whined.

“Do you always chase cops?” Cas chuckled as they stopped at a red ight.

“Shut up,” Dean snapped good humouredly, his anger seemingly melted away.

Cas turned in his seat, pulling on his seatbelt as he extracted his cleaning cloth from his backpack.

Dean followed the sounds of sirens that came in through the open windows, and Cas cleaned his dusty glasses. He was worried. How had ‘Chuck’ known his name? Why was he talking about Lucifer? What would have happened if Dean wasn’t there? Would the crazy man follow him home? The man must know Dean’s car by now. Cas cast a wary glance out of the rear window; only a blue Honda was behind them.

What bothered him the most was that Chuck knew his name. He had never met Chuck; he would have remembered such an eccentric character. Cas was one of those people who rarely forgot a face, or a name. He overheard conversations, and knew a person’s name simply because someone addressed them. Names were powerful to Castiel, and he was scared that Chuck knew his, even though he had never heard Chuck’s.

“Oh _shit._ ”

Cas looked up. He had been absently cleaning his glasses. He peered out of the windshield, and his limbs turned to jello. Already on edge, he let out a moan. He blinked his eyes several times, as if looking for a better scene before him.

_Oh God, no._

_No, this can’t be happening._

Outside the Ristorante Italiano, Meg’s (as well as Jo’s) place of employment, there were five scout cars, sirens shooting lights that bounced off the windows and walls. Cas, with panicked eyes, saw a crowd of sightseers gawking behind crime scene tape. Thousands of memories poured in Cas’s brain, and he began to tremble. An airy feeling tingled in his limbs. Dean searched for a place to park, and Cas searched for Meg. Both hers and Jo’s shifts weren’t over for at least another forty-five minutes. They were still in the building! Fear in a hot, liquid form shot through him with each rapid beat of his heart.

Finally parking one street away, Dean and Cas grew wings on their feet and found themselves in the crowd outside of the crime scene tape that was skewered across cars, telephone poles, and whatever else could accommodate it. Cas stood on his tiptoes in an attempt to see Jo or Meg; he was still too short. He then placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder for support, leaping into the air with a pleading expression on his face, trying to spot his friends. In vain. They were nowhere in sight. Anxiously, he looked over to Dean, who was a few inches taller.

“Do you see her?” He pressed, releasing his shoulder.

Dean stood on his tiptoes, his face scrunched in concentration. He squinted. He turned to Cas, snatched his glasses, and put them on his nose, ignoring protests. He reported that Meg was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t see Jo either,”

“Why don’t you text her?” He suggested, handing him his glasses back. Cas scowled at him, and with shaky hands, brought his phone out of his pocket. With equally shaky fingers, he typed a message inquiring Meg’s whereabouts. He didn’t have Jo’s number. He held the phone tight in order to stop his hand from shaking, and waited, prayed, for a response.

Meanwhile, Dean had tapped someone on the shoulder, asking what had happened. Cas recognized him; as a bank teller with a photographic memory, he recognized many people. He was a small, Asian teen; Charlie knew him. His name was Kevin. Cas had seen him at school; he was a freshman, as was Charlie.

“I heard some of the cops say that someone shot up the place. And some eyewitnesses said they saw the gunman and heard gunshots.”

“Who were the eyewitnesses? Was anyone hurt?” Cas asked, his eyes huge. He was wringing his hands, and he felt his nose and fingers begin to tingle. _No! I don’t have time for this anxiety!_ He vigorously ran his hand through his hair, growling pathetically.

Kevin looked at him with pity, and Cas hated every second of it. “I don’t know the eyewitnesses; I only saw an ambulance head down the street, so I guess someone got hurt.” Kevin said, and nodded at them as he returned to sightseeing.

Cas looked over at Dean, his hands still in his hair. He was wheezing, and now his face began to tingle as panic threaded through him.

“Calm down, Cas. I’m sure she’s fine,” Dean said reassuringly, holding Cas’s shoulder with a calming force. Cas didn’t even notice that he had moved closer to him, but he didn’t care. He felt safer near Dean. His thorax had that giggly feeling again as Dean’s fingers slowly massaged and kneaded Cas’s tight shoulder. He closed his eyes at the feeling, trying to calm himself down, but he couldn’t.

_No, not again, I’m not about to lose another friend again._

_No, not her, please not her._

Cas dropped his phone as it vibrated, and displayed an unknown talent of speed as he hit it in the air and caught it. Furiously unlocking it, he read the text message. His heart sank. It wasn’t Meg.

_Where r u, have u heard the news?_

It was from Gabriel. It was one of the few times Cas was upset about his brother messaging him.

He quickly typed out a response. “Is she OK?!” Dean asked, worry tainting his voice.

“It’s Gabriel,” Cas replied.

_I’ve heard the news. I’m at the restaurant now. We don’t know where Meg is. Where are you?_

A few moments later, Gabriel responded.

_Omw._

Cas squinted. He wasn’t accustomed to acronymic speech. What did ‘ _omw_ ’ mean?

“What did he say?” Dean asked, peering over Cas’s shoulder even though he knew Cas hated it when he did that. Cas lightly poked his chin with his shoulder until he moved away.

“He said…‘omw’.”

“He’s on his way here.” Dean translated, jumping to try and see into the restaurant. A newswoman was being followed around by a camera crew, and she was thrusting a microphone into the faces of officials and a few lost looking employees. None of those employees were Meg; waiters and waitresses had different uniforms than those employees.

Cas peered around, his eyes beginning to blur with shameful tears. He quickly blinked the tears away, turning so that Dean couldn’t see him cry. How would he cope with Meg’s death? He couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Meg was his best friend, his rock, his soul mate, his sister. Meg was his everything. Now she was gone, nowhere to be seen. He could only assume the worst. A lump swelled in his throat, his eyes blurring even more.

Wiping his eyes as quick as a flash, and he looked up, his body quaking violently. Swaying like a reed in the breeze, he stumbled away from the crowd, unnoticed by Dean. He could almost hear the ghosts of bullets flying out of a barrel, glasses breaking, people screaming. How would he tell her mother? Her sister? Her father? Gabriel?

How would he tell himself?

He let out a sob that spoke in volumes greater than any words. He tumbled towards Dean, looking for solace.

He looked up, gazing out across the broken, weedy parking lot. Lights bounced everywhere, manipulating his vision. The heat and the fear was getting to him. He was becoming alarmingly dizzy. He scanned through the crowd once more.

_Please._

_Please be alive._

_Please tell me you weren’t shot._

_Please tell me that someone was there to hold you when you died._

_Please tell me that someone was there to wipe the tears away as you fell into death’s embrace._

_Please tell me that you weren’t afraid._

_Please tell me you weren’t shot._

_Please be alive._

_Please._

Reaching Dean, Cas still looked at the corner of the parking lot. It was as if his brain was forcing him to look there. It was like a magnet was drawing his eyes towards it. Cas didn’t mind; he wasn’t facing Dean that way.

Suddenly his heart leaped into his throat. He felt like a leopard was performing a tango in his stomach. He lurched forward, his mouth agape. He blinked.

There, in the parking lot, was the only person in a waiter/waitress’ uniform. Though far, Cas could recognize that gait from blocks away. That slightly uneven gait that came from the tiniest of limps from when she broke her ankle in third grade. That bounce that seemed slightly dejected at the moment. Those long, wavy locks.

A gurgle escaped his tight throat, such a deathlike gurgle that Dean whipped around in alarm. Cas jumped up and down, a trait he hadn’t displayed in years. His mouth opened wide into a huge smile, his teeth glinting in the sun. His fists clenched, and he searched wildly for Dean with his hand. He pointed, small squeaks and unintelligible squeals of happiness and joy bouncing off his tongue.

“There she is!” Cas finally managed to shout, and Dean smelled cinnamon as Cas breezed by, running around the crowd towards the lone, longhaired figure. She was chasing a stone she had been kicking around the parking lot, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around her. Her arms stuck out at her sides like a child, and her shock blanket kept falling off. An EMT was hurrying after her, an annoyed expression on her face. Her response to Cas’s shout was delayed.

She toddled over to Cas, who was waiting anxiously at the crime scene tape prison bars. He was soon joined by Dean. A silly grin was plastered on her face.

“Hiya, boys!” She trilled.

“Meg!” Cas whimpered, his voice quaking in relief.

Meg giggled, her eyes glassy. She stumbled forward to accept Cas’s hug, her face burrowing into his shoulder. She squeezed him tight, but his hug was a close match. The rocked violently back and forth, Cas jabbering inarticulately into her ear, his quavering hand stoking her dark hair. Dean felt awful when he saw how fiercely Cas was quaking. However, he stood to the side and let them have their moment. Instead, he looked for Gabriel.

After a long few minutes, Cas released Meg. She was shivering, but her smile lit up his world. He cupped her face with both of his hands, tears falling freely down his cheeks. They were no longer tears of grief; they were now tears of overwhelming relief and joy. Meg gripped his wrists, her giggles becoming stutters of happiness.

“Don’t you ever frighten me like that again, Meg, you hear me?” Cas cried out softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead multiple times. His vision truly was spinning.

“Eh…I won’t…” Meg said, trailing off into a slightly demented cackle.

“Meg, are you high?” Dean asked, returning from his watch for Gabriel, peering curiously into her dazed face.

Meg laughed. “Oh, I wish, Dean-o,” she said, poking his cheek to convey her affection.

“It’s shock, you should go back to the ambulance,” The annoyed EMT said, picking up the fallen shock blanket. She placed it around Meg’s shivering shoulders.

“Oh, I’m fine Boo Boo, don’t you worry your pretty head,” Meg cooed, actually pinching the young EMT’s cheek. She flushed furiously.

“Meg, stop flirting with the EMT,” Cas hissed under his breath.

“Did you drug her or something?” Dean asked.

The EMT began to tell Dean about different ways of dealing with difficult events, and Cas gently questioned Meg.

“Where’s Jo? Is she alright?”

Meg nodded, waving her hand in a careless gesture. “Oh, yeah, she got a cut in her arm when the mirror behind my head exploded when Lucifer shot at it."

_It starts today, Castiel Novak!_

“He knew it was gonna happen,” Cas breathed, still holding Meg’s shoulder.

“Dean!” Cas called, his voice rising in fear.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked, quickly coming to his side, the EMT close behind. She was looking at Dean with an interested glint in her eyes. God, was everyone flirting with the EMT?

“He knew it was going to happen. Lucifer, coming back, everything.” Cas whispered. He was struggling with this idea. There was no way that guy could predict the future. Prophets weren’t real. No one could see the future; it just wasn’t scientifically possible. Cas’s rational brain was exploding. He couldn’t cope. Too many emotions were engulfing him at once. He brought his hands to his temple, and ground down hard.

“You’ve got to come with me,” The EMT said to Meg, grabbing her arm.

“Oooh, lovely,” Meg breathed, willingly being pulled away.

Meg was pulled away by the EMT. Cas could hear her flirting still, the EMT becoming more and more uncomfortable.

Cas felt like he was overwhelmed already, but suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. His mental barrier wasn’t strong enough. The levee broke, and a wave of tears fell from his eyes. His throat was swelling at an uncomfortable rate, and he stared at the ground, his neck refusing to budge.

“Whoa, Cas?” Came Dean’s alarmed voice. When Cas heard it, he felt shame burning in his cheeks.

When an arm wrapped around his shaking shoulders, Cas felt even more ashamed. His shame quickly turned to rage. How dare he blow up in front of Dean? How dare Dean look at him when he was like this? What did Dean think of him now? Cas felt violence uncoil in his stomach, and he jerked away, jabbing his shoulder blades into Dean’s arm with fierce force. The arm was quickly taken away.

Cas glowered in Dean’s direction, a few feet of distance between them. If Cas was a cat, he would have been fluffed up in anger, whiskers laid back and ears flat. When he saw Dean’s shocked and hurt expression, his anger evaporated, and he really fell apart.

“Dean, I…” He stammered, and he bit his lips. He drew his shoulders up to his ears, and folded his arms. He forcefully corked the bottle of his emotions, but the physics of emotions prevented him from doing so. Now, he had gone and fractured the bond between Dean and himself. Great.

“Hey, it’s OK buddy, I understand…” Dean said, and Cas could feel him edge closer. Dean had never been afraid of Cas before, and the fact he was now made Cas want to crawl into a corner and die. Just when he had discovered that his best friend was alive, his next best friend was scared if him. Dean was poised tentatively, a few inches of space between them.

Cas took a step to the right, closer to Dean, his eyes still fixed on the pavement. No amount of coaxing would make him look at his firned. He titled his head towards Dean, and he squinted against the strong breeze that was kicking up dust.

He saw Dean’s shoes and denim wrapped legs, and his thorax took a nosedive once more. He suddenly felt the desire to lean his head on Dean’s shoulder, to bury his nose into his freckled neck, much like he would do with Meg whenever he felt like this. But this was different; the feeling was slightly amplified, and he suddenly grew extremely confused and scared. Why would he want to do that? This sudden desire for human touch was baffling, and Cas decided that he was just incredibly anxious. His eyes fell shut as Dean resumed to rub his shoulder, his arm a reassuring presence. Mouth slightly open and eyes closed, Cas stood there in silence for a little while, trying to stem his tears and get a hold of his anxiety. He sniffled every once in a while.

Still, Cas could not get a reign on his rampant fears and irritations. Suddenly, an explosion of activity rocked his brain. He came to a horrible conclusion: Lucifer was targeting people!

“Dean, he’s after the Masters.” Cas said, finally looking up at his friend, who was holding his shoulder still. His eyes were severely bloodshot. “First Ruby, now this. Did you hear what she said?” Cas asked, furiously running a hand through his hair.

Dean grabbed the hand running through the thick, cinnamon scented hair. “Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself. Just…calm down dude, OK? What matters now is that Meg and Jo are alive.” He put the hand back at Cas’s side, and glared at it as Cas raised it to run it through his hair once more.

“They are _this_ time Dean. What about next time? What if next time Meg stands three inches to the right and-and-”

“There won’t _be_ a next time!” Dean growled, grabbing Cas’s shoulders and shaking them. His eyes were fierce, but deep beneath there was a glimmering of fear that couldn’t be missed. This had never happened to Dean before, and it disturbed him deeply. Sure, there had been violence in some of his other neighborhoods, but never had it happened to someone he was close to.

“ _That’s what we said last time, with Ruby!_ ” Cas yelled back, in a voice that would have been intimidating and out of character had it not been for the fear that caked his voice like mud.

“Aw, look at the babies, arguing like an old married couple,” said a cheeky voice from over Cas’s shoulder.

Dean and Gabriel had met only a week before. So far, they had an unusual relationship. Gabriel had taken to making Dean’s life miserable, embarrassing him in front of Cas, making comments about his behavior and his car, and overall being a jackass. Dean, bewildered, didn’t know how to act. Did he like Gabriel, or did he hate him with a burning passion? Somewhere, passion was burning, but no one was quite sure where. Meg, putting her nickel’s worth in, had found their relationship to be hilarious.

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Dean snapped, taking his hands off his brother’s shoulders and stepping back.

“Gabriel ships it!” Screamed a voice that proved to be Meg, wandering out of the EMT’s grasp once more. “Shut up, Meg!” Cas squalled as Meg was dragged away again. Again with the shipping. Hearing meg’s voice, even though she was talking about the infamous ‘Destiel’, somehow managed to calm him.

Gabriel watched with squinted eyes as Meg was forced to sit down on the back of an open ambulance, while the EMT awkwardly tried to check her vital signs. By the red tint on her cheeks, Meg was probably flirting. “Well, I see Meg’s alright.”

“She appears to be intoxicated or under some other kind of influence.” Cas observed as Meg once more leaned forward to pinch the EMT’s cheek or play with her hair. His shaking was subsiding the more he saw that Meg was alright.

“Well, there’s more than one way to deal with stress,” Gabriel said, looking down at Cas. “How you holding up?”

Cas ran an experimental hand on his cheeks and nose. He wiggled his fingers. The tingling was beginning to subside, and he felt like a calming serum had been injected into his veins. Dean’s words began to pool in his brain. Perhaps there wasn’t going to be a next time. Maybe Meg wouldn’t stand three inches to the right. Maybe he shouldn’t run his hand through his hair so much because as he thought about it, his scalp felt sore.

“I’m doing…a little better,” He admitted.

“Coolio Jones, bro. What about Polly Pocket?”

“Shut up,” Came the vehement response from Dean.

Gabriel suddenly became quiet, and Dean seemed pleased that he had obeyed his command. He seemed a tiny bit dejected when Gabriel began to speak, but resumed his alertness when the words that came forth were spoken in hushed undertones.

“…Was it…Lucifer?” Gabriel murmured, looking at the building with a determination to avoid eye contact. Cas watched as his Adam’s apple shook as he swallowed hard. He still struggled with the fact that his little brother, the little brother who pleased everyone and was a virtual dream child, had turned out so wicked. Gabriel blamed himself for Lucifer’s wrongdoings, and it didn’t do him any good.

Gabriel’s pale eyes looked over at Dean and Cas’s averted ones. He nodded. “OK, so it was Lucifer.” He said, and Dean discovered that running hands through hair was a family trait as long, scarred fingers ran through the light hair clothing Gabriel’s head. Oddly enough, he grinned. Dean assumed right away that Gabriel was concealing anger, but Cas thought he was actually happy.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation, Gabriel,” Cas said.

“Oh, I think I do, Cas,” Gabriel shot back, aware that Cas was unaware that he was quoting an online meme. He looked towards the small restaurant with both hands on his head. It would have been a comical pose had the situation not been so serious.

Cas stared at the gravelly parking lot resting beneath his feet. Heat rose off the ground in waves, blurring the solid lines between reality and a fictitious world in which everyone was safe. The boundaries between life and death were melting, and safety was becoming more and more of an intangible.

It was foolish to think that Lucifer would suddenly up and stop committing crime. These past few weeks had only been the gentle breeze and the hazy warmth before the storm. Lurking in the shadows, Lucifer had merely been waiting for an opportunity to strike. Like a predator in undergrowth, his eyes glinted, followed, predicted every move of the nervous antelope. Oh, how he must have relished in the fear he had caused, the anguish, the pain! Only a mind like his could derive glee from suffering in others. His lungs did not require oxygen; they required the air released from the lungs of those who screamed, yelled, and cried out in anger. He quenched his thirst on salty tears. And now, he was out again.

Twice now, there had almost been death. Twice, one for each Masters daughter. Every near death experience had been at the hands of his brother. It was a wonder the Masters still kept Cas around.

Cas gazed over at the ambulance, where he saw Meg slip the EMT a slip of paper. Dean followed his gaze, and soon Gabriel did as well.

Cas looked over at Dean, and as if Dean felt himself being looked at, he glanced over at Cas. Cas and Meg’s communication required facial movements and hand gestures; Dean and Cas’s newfound communication required nothing but meaningful eye contact. Suddenly, Cas felt a great flow of trust in Dean gush out of him. Here was a man worthy of trust, who could be trusted with a key to Cas’s inner self.

Cas swallowed, and looked down at his palm as his phone vibrated. Unlocking it, he saw that Mrs. Masters was calling. Either Gabriel had contacted her, or she was watching the news.

“Have you heard the news?!” was the phrase she cried out.

Cas did not smile.

_Oh sure, I’ve heard the news._

_It started today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I AM SO SORRY this is so late and it's just awful, I'm sorry. But here it is, the chapter we've all been waiting for! Yeah, so, as usual, any questions? Comments? Requests? I would love to- oh you know how this works by now, just enjoy the chapter!  
> *UPDATE SORRY, I WAS REALLY TIRED WHEN I POSTED THIS AND NEGLECTED TO MENTION SOMETHING  
> So, as you know, this fic will end one way or another. Once this fic is over, I will have little to write, so I am beginning to think of what to write after this. Should I write a  
> -Deaged!Castiel fic  
> OR  
> -Genderbent!Castiel fic?  
> I have plots for both but I really can't decide which one I want to write more. Leave a comment on the story saying which one you want, OK? Thanks guys! Also, we are so close to 400 HITS!! THANK YOU! :D  
> *UPDATE TWO if any of you has a Tumblr, feel free to follow me on casamacutiewrites.tumblr.com for updates, complaints about writing, and dry humor.


	8. A Brother's Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meg vandalizes Ruby's homework, Cas falls off his sofa, and someone makes an unexpected appearance to the Novak household.

Later that night, Cas lay on the sagging sofa in his living room. For once in his life, he could actually feel safe in his house. For indeed, Michael and his Father were at separate bars, and Gabriel was just wandering the neighborhood. The door was locked, and there was a knife on the side table, in case of emergencies. The windows were open to welcome the warm air indoors, and Cas was truly happy lying there on the sofa, a drawing pad on his knees.

Cas had several categories of drawing pads and notebooks, all hidden in a hole behind his dresser. They were color coded in a way only Cas knew. Red was for animals, both real and mythological. Yellow was for any nature besides animals. Most of the drawings in here were of the tree he sat under at school. Blue was for people. He drew Meg, himself, Gabriel, and his brainchildren. Any characters that he created were put into his blue notebook.

Suddenly, Cas stood up. Just the other day, Meg had gotten him a green notebook. Not knowing what to do with it, Cas had stuck it in his notebook hidey-hole and hadn’t touched it. He simply didn’t have a category for it. But now, he ran upstairs to fetch it.

Quietly, even though he knew no one was there, Cas pushed aside his dresser. He reached into the hole, pushed aside a few red notebooks, and searched for the solitary green notebook. Gripping it, he pulled it out of the dusty shadows, and dusted off the cover. He grinned widely, hastily reorganized the other notebooks, and pushed the dresser back. He made sure the carpet was pushed back to its normal position, and he flew downstairs once more.

He fell down onto the sofa, and propped the notebook open against his knees. The pages were seductively blank, and a chasm of possibilities were before him. As Cas’s pencil twitched in his long fingers, he began to wonder what to draw. For some reason, excitement was coiling up in his guts, and his arms were tingling in a good way.

Cas was both fascinated and terrified by that giggly feeling he had gotten in his stomach. Fueled by that giggly feeling in his thorax, and the liquid joy that his best friend was alive made him want to draw. His pencil sat there, eagerly staring at the lined paper.

However, Cas’s mind went to other places.

He had almost lost Meg today.

Almost being the key word, however. As Dean said, there wasn’t go to _be_ a next time. Not while Cas was still alive.

Shaking his head, Cas focused on better things. Right now, Meg was at home with her family, where she should be. Her mother was probably making her two grilled cheese sandwiches made with real butter-not that low cholesterol stuff- and heating up a can of chicken noodle soup.

Meg was probably looking fondly at the hastily scrawled number on the scrap of paper that the EMT has snatched from her, but it had somehow found its way back into her pocket. A cup of strong coffee was probably steaming by her elbow, but she would probably sneak a monster later on, despite her mother’s admonitions.  

Ruby was probably sitting at the kitchen table, closer to Meg than she normally would have been, doing her homework as Meg wrote insults on the top of her notebook. Just sitting closer to her sister would make her feel safer.

Meg’s father would be sitting in the living room, his chair facing the front the tightly bolted front door, his gaze split between his family, the view of the street through the windows, and _Jeopardy!_ He would be worried about his daughters, and hoping his son was safe, and why he wasn’t home? For why wasn’t Cas sitting next to Ruby, helping her with her homework, swatting Meg’s pen away?

The reason Cas wasn’t with the Masters was something psychological. Cas felt like he was clinging to the edges of this family. He felt like he was the frayed yarn on the edge of the scarf, the stained, torn edges of a sweater. Cas had latched on this family like a remora, requiring the shark to live. Without Meg’s mom as a motherly figure, without Meg’s father for paternal advice, Cas would truly be lost. He would fall into the beckoning void he skirted away from every day. Some days he felt like he was spiraling closer and closer to a dark galaxy where intangibles were in fact alive, and could hurt him in places he never though imaginable.

With every near death experience, Cas took a step closer to that gaping maw in his mind, and today he began to peer over the edge.

However, Cas loved his family too much. He did not want to hurt them in any way. They had done nothing to deserve such pain. Mr. Masters didn’t deserve having to have to keep an eye out for strangers on the sidewalk. Ruby didn’t deserve to have nightmares about losing her sister. Meg didn’t deserve the feeling of fear she would certainly feel when she was at work. Cas loved them too much. So he was staying away.

He felt that his presence was slowly destroying the family. After all, his kin was the one that was causing them all to feel afraid in places they should feel the safest. Staying away was the only option his brain thought he had.

To stave off mental breakdown, Cas began to draw what he thought of when he had gotten that strange sensation in his stomach.

Cas had been fascinated by that feeling. Never had he ever experienced it before. It made him feel nauseous, but it made him glad to be nauseous. It was like a shark was gnawing its way through his veins, but it was spewing out glitter and candy all the while. It felt like beginnings of an anxiety attack, but it was different. Just thinking about it made Cas nervous, but it also made him feel drowsy, like a whale basking in the sunlight, without a care in the world.

Cas’s mind was irritatingly blank. He wanted to draw something _so bad._ Creativity was livid in his brain, and he could practically taste the masterpieces waiting to emerge from the graphite. Growing frustrated, Cas closed his eyes. He rested his head on the scuffed arm of the sofa, his Adam’s apple and nose tilted skyward.

He listened to the outdoors, trying to gain a spark of inspiration. The sharps scolds of a robin, the kind he only gives at night. The thick, rolling huff of his own breath, flowing in and out of his mouth. The gentle whisper of the leaves, telling Cas a story so similar to the tale of the great oak outside the school. The voice of someone he knew laughing mellifluously, drumming to a beat that sounded like footsteps.

The sound of a car door opening, the squeaking melting into a glazed voice talking about shattering mirrors and fragmented glass. Those shards of glass hitting him in the stomach, his breathing hitching, his lungs pumping out heavy pants of breath. A smile on his lips melted away into bright sunlight, blurred by the waves of heat rising from the hot pavement, swaying every which way in the damp gust of wind.

The damp wind morphed into damp breath on his cheeks and lips. An inhale. A sudden suction and cooling sensation on the lips. An exhale. Warmth coaxing dry lips to relax. A simple touch to the shoulder, the gentle kneading of concern, filling up his body like the first drink of water of the day.

As he looked up, the sunlight had nearly engulfed a figure that stood well over his line of vision. Though the figure did not have many facial features, Cas could recognize him at once. Those green eyes were enough, and as Cas’s lips grew warmer and wetter, freckles, teeth, and eyelashes appeared.

His lungs worked harder, and his eyes began to lose motivation. His vision doubled, blurred, and bounced. His heart working overtime, beating like impatient footfalls, He reached out, his mouth moving upwards, towards those teeth, those freckles, those eyelashes. The viridian pools above slowly disappeared as eyelashes fell, and soon nothing but darkness had pulled Cas into a gentle embrace.

“Having a good dream?”

All memory of viridian pools and warm lips popped violently like balloons filled with noxious gases. Lopsided glasses hung from one ear, and eyebrows flew up like terrified ravens. An empty notebooks screamed as it fell to the floor, pages fluttering and thrashing as it went. An excess of saliva was hastily swallowed, and eyes blinked repeatedly.

Cas looked about wildly, trying to locate that inquiring voice. Had it been apart of that dream?

Suddenly, Cas realized how _odd_ he felt. His pupils felt dilated, and he was indeed breathing heavily, huskily. His limbs felt heavier, and slightly swollen. His jaw hung open like it had no energy to shut, and his tongue was lolling to one side. He felt sticky from sweat, even though the window was open to stimulate air circulation.

And that feeling! It was making him walk on cloud, making him breathe as if he was struggling through the high. His nerves were being tickled by…what was that…?  Taking deep breaths, Cas nearly forgot that someone had roused him from his dream.

Suddenly, his eyes came back into focus. He was alert. A jolt ran through his spine, and his eyes were pinned on the figure lazing about on the opposite side of the sofa. A strangled gasp squeezed out of his throat. His chest felt tight with confusion, fear, and repressed yelp of surprise.

It was as if he had been a cup that had been moved from on cabinet to another. One would merely look at him once, and not give him a second thought. The brain naturally thought that he was supposed to be there. He had an air of belonging, and his eyes glowed with a challenge. If the brain didn’t think he belonged where he was, then he _made_ it think he belonged there.

He lolled on the sofa, one leg protruding over the arm. His jeans were scuffed, and his face was coated in scruff. Looking like a psychopathic villain straight from a movie, Lucifer sat before Castiel’s very eyes.

Hastily, Cas pushed his glasses up his nose, and swallowed. He opened his mouth, and instantly closed it again. Like a goldfish, he kept trying to find words to say.

“Hello, Castiel,” Lucifer purred.

Cas continued his reign of silence, and as he did so, Lucifer asked “Surely Little Cas isn’t excited by my mellifluous voice?”

Expecting something more dramatic or threatening, Cas was baffled as to what his brother meant. But by following Lucifer’s eyes and by mentally scanning his body, Cas got the idea. He brought his legs up to his knees so fast that he pulled his right hamstring. Hoping to be in a more threatening and wary pose, Cas lamented as he rolled onto one side, trying to please his cramping muscles but also hide himself from Lucifer.

“No, Lucifer, he isn’t,” Cas managed to squeak in response.

Lucifer merely raised an eyebrow, his lips curled in disapproval. He lazily skimmed through channels. Cas observed that his movements were impatient, like the thrashing of a cat’s tail. As captivating as blender commercials were, his eyes kept darting over to his little brother, whose thoughts were racing faster than they normally did.  

Cas had read so many stories, had seen so many movies, had watched the news so many times that he thought he’d be prepared for when the antagonist of the story made his debut. For indeed, Cas had visualized his encounter with Lucifer long in advance. He had plenty of time, after all; an entire year’s worth of planning. And here he was, trying to hide a boner and ease a cramping hamstring. This social situation wasn’t going as well as he thought it would.  

Now it was time to improvise, and improvisation was not Cas’s strong point.

Suddenly, Cas remembered: Gabriel’s knife. It was just behind him. It was a good, strong knife. Cas would certainly feel safer with it in his hands. He lay still, his eyes on Lucifer, who was still looking at the blender infomercial. If someone from out of town had walked in, they’d assume that two brothers, perfectly at peace with one another and the world, were enjoying their evening together on the couch.

Feeling like a cat, Cas suddenly lunged backwards, his hand clawing wildly at the table. His hand flopped on the table, searching hungrily for the blade. He soon lost enthusiasm, and he certainly felt like an idiot.

“Cassie?”

Cas looked over his shoulder, his eyes huge.

Lucifer’s eyes were still glued to the screen, though his hand now gripped Gabriel’s blade instead of the remote. Nonchalantly, Lucifer flicked the blade open so that he could examine it in the flickering lamplight. His pale eyes systematically scanned the sharp edge, the point. His hand curled around the hilt, the knife settling comfortably into his flesh.

In a flash, Cas realized what danger he was in.

Ungracefully, he flopped to the floor, out of his brother’s reach.

Lucifer stared at him. “…Are you on drugs or something?” Was his only question.

From his position on the ground, Cas looked terrified. “Fortunately, no,” He gasped.

“Good. Don’t do drugs, kiddo.” Lucifer said casually.

It was Cas’s turn to stare. After a year’s worth of silence, Lucifer chose the day he shot up a restaurant to come home and watch TV. Was he deliberately trying to confuse Cas? Lucifer knew that Cas was a straightforward person, and was confused when something was illogical. Was he using that to his advantage? _Wait, don’t do drugs?!_ He was one to talk!

“What?!” Cas blurted out. His head was going to explode. Nothing about this situation made sense!

“Yes?” Lucifer asked, in a weary voice.

“Why are you here, Lucifer?!” Cas hissed.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I was wondering when you’d ask,”

“…You have an annoying habit of giving vague answers to questions,”

“You have a habit of being irritatingly rational.” Lucifer shot back.

“Growing up in a house with you and Gabriel does that to a person,”

There was a few moments of tense silence. Lucifer skimmed the channels while Cas lay on the floor, watching him uneasily. His mind was still racing. He lifted up his glasses to rub his sleepy eyes. Trying to think of when he might have accidentally ingested a hallucinogen, he kept peeking at Lucifer, making sure he was real.

He was real all right. A year seemed to have changed him. His jaw was strong, square, and spiky with a bristly beard. His eyes were constantly narrowed in a forlorn squint. The shadows of his past seemed to nestle beneath his hooded eyes. He had a perpetual look of weariness, but if one took a closer look, it was obvious that he was alert. In a way, he reminded Cas of Dean; how he constantly looked around, calmly analyzing his surroundings. An equally calm smile perched on his lips. Only people who knew of him and his reputation knew of the magma that raged beneath the crust.

Suddenly, Lucifer rose. His wrist popped as he twirled the blade. The ease in which he handled the weapon unnerved Cas greatly. According to Meg, it was those knife-happy hands that stabbed Ruby. Lucifer played with knives like Meg and Cas played with model dinosaurs, only Lucifer was much more open to it.

He looked down at Cas with a sharp turn of his neck. His eyes were so… _alien._ They were so alive, but they had a gleam that scraped against Cas’s nerves. It was similar to the gleam that had illuminated Chuck’s bloodshot eyes, only Lucifer’s light had so much more power and malice.

“Why are you on the floor still?”

Cas blinked, and scrambled to his feet.

Lucifer stole towards him, kicking the remote and Cas’s notebook as he went. Gabriel’s knife was a mere blur in his fingers. How Cas wished Gabriel was there! As he stood there, he was locked to the floor, his brain desperately searching for the lost key. A known murderer was walking towards him, looking like the hunter, while he stood there, paralyzed like prey.

 Still, Cas could not move as fear snaked around his limbs like constricting adders. He was chained, and all he wanted to do was break free and run away, run away to his room and lock himself inside, run to Meg’s house, run wherever to find Gabriel, run to Dean. Run to anyone, anyone but Lucifer.

Cas’s personal space bubble was violated deeply as Lucifer stood mere inches from his face. As infirm as a willow, Cas forgot how to swallow, how to breathe, how to live without fear. Lucifer’s breath stole his voice. Lucifer’s eyes took his sight. Lucifer’s presence took his mind. Cas’s eyes averted from the pale ones boring straight through him.

In a flash, the knife stopped twirling. In a sudden stop in motion, Cas faltered. That knife just _hung_ there, gazing at him with smug teeth and narrowed eyes. Cas’s fingers were clutching his palms as he clenched his fists. His toes were wiggling in his shoes, and he was chewing his lips. Looking anywhere but Lucifer, his shoulders drew closer to his ears. Looking anywhere but his nightmare, moving towards anything besides his phantom, listening to anything but the breathy and light inhales and exhales of his brother, his demon, his ever-present dream gone afoul, Cas exhaled shakily.

All of the residue of fears from the past came rushing back. All of the nights spent awake, listening out for the same light breathing, all the glances cast over the shoulders, all of the jumps, all of the paranoia, all of the feelings that a shadow was stalking in places unseen. All of the insecurities, all of the unease. It came bounding forward, pinning Cas into his one spot.

Nerves flying as wildly as the bow over the cello, Cas’s jaw shook as he clenched it. He could not stop his limbs from shaking. He could not keep his jaw shut. He couldn’t close his eyes, and he couldn’t constrict his throat to swallow. He kept his eyes on the notebook splayed out behind his brother’s large and unafraid form, a form that had a a firm grip on his emotions.

As soon as he had thought that, cold metal traced his jaw. In any other circumstance, he would have laughed, for it was a ticklish sensation resonating from his skin. However, now was not the time. A sharp prick in his chin, nothing larger than a shaving nick, forced Cas to look forward at his assailant. He forced his vocalized pain to stay within his lungs as Lucifer dug the tip of the knife blade deeper into Cas’s chin, until Cas felt a sickening vibration as the metal scraped against his bone. Fighting back tears and quivers, Cas blinked at his brother, his breathing an earthquake compared to the knife wielding being before him.

Cas had to strain his ears as Lucifer began to speak.

“You’ve heard of my latest achievement, I presume?”

Cas blinked, once more confused.

“…What…achievement?” He whispered.

Lucifer grinned, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth the way Meg’s always did. As he thought of Meg, Cas felt a rather strange and untimely chasm of loneliness and a desire for human touch open inside of him.

Lucifer did not count, as Lucifer was no longer human.

 

Lucifer merely laughed and, took the knife from Castiel’s chin. A great burden of tension was released from Castiel’s tight muscles, only to return as the blade began to dance an inch before his eyes

Cas felt faint as the Lucifer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose using the tip of the blade. He squirmed where he was standing, the knife too close to his eyes for his comfort. Two seconds could flash by, and Cas could lose an eye. Glasses only protected him so much.

“You need to get your frames adjusted,” Lucifer commented, tracing patterns with the knife on Cas’s clean-shaven, scarred cheeks. A pink tongue swiped over dry lips, and Cas’s blue eyes melted into Lucifer’s pale ones.

“What achievement?” Cas asked once again, his voice uneven like a frightened baby.

Lucifer sighed. “The restaurant. My latest adventure, Cas!” He hissed, eyes flashing.

Then, he twirled the blade gracefully. “My latest attempt to embark into a world where I free this planet of evil,”

“But Lucifer…Attempting to kill people _is_ evil.”

“Ah yes, you make a valid point. But you’re talking from _your_ perspective, dear brother of mine,” Lucifer purred, and Cas felt him trace a smiley face in his cheek with the blade.

Cas stared at him. “You aren’t making sense again.”

“You are so very rational, Cassie. So much so, you can’t even absorb the easy words I’m saying. You, Castiel, are innocent, but you are influenced by evil.”

Cas backed up, confusion taking over his fear. He waited for Lucifer to explain, for he sensed that his interjections only angered his older brother.

“You see, brother, all of us are born innocent. It is the people around us who turn evil and that make us like them. Father and I both agree that the people around you are trying to turn you.”

Castiel blinked. “…Is that why you’re going after the Masters?” he said in a soft voice.

Lucifer nodded in approval and swayed like a child with the wind running through its hair. He jumped on the sofa, smiling serenely “Now you’re catching on!” He said happily, and he smiled internally when he saw Cas begin to get angry.

“…What are the Masters trying to turn me into?” Cas asked, playing along to Lucifer’s game in a soft yet tight voice.

“Oh, it isn’t the _Masters_ who are trying to turn you!” He was growing more and more excited. However, Cas was not happy about Lucifer being excited. Lucifer being excited could only lead to misfortune in the eyes of everyone else.

“Then who is? And what are they turning me into?!” Cas snapped, louder and with more agitation than he meant.

Lucifer leapt softly from the sofa, loping over to Cas. His socks dragged on the carpet, sending shivers up Cas’s spine. With a silly grin, Lucifer booped Cas on the nose with the knife.

“What is that charming young man’s name? I can’t seem to remember…You know, tall, kinda douche-y…Has an ego that can sustain life on the entire planet…” He tapped his temple with the knife, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was tying to recollect something from many years ago.

He gasped theatrically, and his eyes lit up, looking at Cas with a mocking gleam. “ _Dean._ Dean Winchester. That guy…the one who puts on a brave front but is really a childish, depressed _coward…_ ”

Cas stiffened when he heard Dean’s name, and his blood began to boil as Lucifer began to insult him. Cas was so _angry._ How _dare_ Lucifer walk into the house he left behind a whole year after nearly killing his best friend, prick Cas with a knife, and start insulting his other best friend?

Cas opened his mouth and was about to speak heatedly when he saw a knowing smirk grace Lucifer’s mouth. He laughed mirthlessly, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “And that just proves my point. Dean’s turning you, Cas. He’s turning you towards him.”

Cas stopped, his brain beginning to malfunction. “…Wait…You think… _gay_ is _evil?_ ”

“I always knew you were meant to be in AP classes.”

Cas was flabbergasted, He had always seen Lucifer as a brilliant person. He had always thought that Lucifer was superior in every way possible, intellectually, physically, and emotionally. It hit him all at once; Lucifer was not the marble statue Cas has assumed he was. Lucifer had many flaws, but Cas didn’t know he was _this_ flawed. All this madness, this destruction, all because he thought Cas was different!

“You think _homosexuals_ are evil? Lucifer, look around you! Turn on the TV, look at the newspaper, pull up your phone! There are more and more people coming out every day! Homosexuality is no more evil than heterosexuality. Do you realize how ludicrous you sound?”

Cas moved forward, setting his shoulders back, his teeth baring in a confident grimace. The blood trickled down his chin, and he stared Lucifer square in the eye. Lucifer’s expression was blank.

“It is not Dean who puts on a brave front when he’s really a egocentric coward, it is you!” Castiel spat, his anger flaring like a gale of wind in a storm.

Lucifer’s nose and eyebrows twisted in rage. “Then you see the vastness of my issue,”

Cas laughed aloud, throwing his head back. His brother was not perfect, his brother was no god, his brother was no solider. His brother was flawed, his brother was a demon, his brother was a coward!

“Lucifer, you can’t eradicate homosexuality! There are too many of us out there!”

“I’m not going to kill you, Castiel.” Lucifer said, his tone deadly.

Cas looked down, and suddenly he felt dread creep into his stomach.

“I’m going to kill Dean Winchester.”

Once more, Cas was rooted to the spot. In his moment of glory, Lucifer needed only to whisper those six words. Six words could crumble Cas’s entire world. The seriousness, the take-to-my-grave, oath worthy threat that Lucifer had just breathed made Cas’s stomach feel like a mass of melted gummy bears. Cas felt cold perspiration tingle in the hairs of his arms, and his heart began to skip like a drunken man.

“I daresay he was the one you dreamed about when I first walked in?” Lucifer asked, his monotone and fathomless stare weaving its way into Castiel’s nerves. Tendrils of honeyed threats curled around Cas’s eardrums, constricting him with the strength of a boa constrictor. He felt like he was suffocating, and he felt a huge desire to see that cocky man who was becoming such a good friend. He wanted to know if he was safe.

“Why would you hurt him?” Cas whimpered.

“I have a mission. I have a cause, and I’m sticking to it. And you can’t get in my way,” Lucifer breathed, gripping the hilt of the knife.

Cas stumbled backward, gripping the edge of the sofa for balance and a tangible object to keep him away from the dark void he was staggering towards. He felt his limbs begin to quake, his eyes dry and fixed on the blade in Lucifer’s knotted hand.

“I’m going to hunt Dean Winchester down. I’m going to hunt his pretty face and make sure he knows that he can’t taint this world. I’m going to make sure he suffers, and I’m going to make sure that there is nothing you can do about it but grieve. And I’m going to make the Masters suffer for egging you on. Liberal hippie trash, I’ll make them suffer. I’ll make you _all_ suffer,” Lucifer chanted, and his eyes slowly began to shine in bloodlust, his mouth opening into a crazed grin. His fingers began to twitch, as if aching for an excuse to throttle and destroy.

Cas felt faint. “Why, Lucifer?” He screamed.

Lucifer traced one more smiley face on his cheek.

“I have to keep you innocent, Cas. I can think of no better way to teach you a lesson.

“And if you breathe a word of this to Dean, or Meg, or Ruby, or anyone, I’ll make sure that you watch as I tear the life out of your friends. I’ll make you watch the life seep out of their bodies.”

No. This didn’t happen in real life. No one was actually threatened like this. No one actually went out systematically killing people. No one was that homophobic. That was all so unreal. It couldn’t happen. That always happened to someone else. Someone else, someone far away, someone so distant that it barely mattered when it happened. No one actually said ‘don’t tell anyone or else I’ll make you pay’ and meant it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening!

“Stay innocent, Castiel. Or everyone else will pay.”

Castiel had sank into a paralyzed state of mental panic that he did not notice Lucifer lace up his boots, open the door, and take a step outside.

“I’ll be watching,”

He took Gabriel’s knife with him.

He also took what little peace of mind Cas had left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Winchester delivery service, how the fuck can I help you?”

Distressed as he was, Castiel couldn’t restrain a soft laugh. Dean always answered his phone calls with the funniest greetings, and instantly Cas felt better. But only for a second. His mouth sat suspended on his face, vocal cords freezing.

“…Cas?”

Cas nodded, and realized that Dean couldn’t see him.

“I’m here,” He gasped, and he was ashamed when tears began to well up in his eyes. The more of he thought of what to say to Dean, the more terrified he was. He had to warn Dean, but Lucifer had said that that was not a very smart move on Cas’s part. What could he do? He couldn’t live and just _wait_ for Lucifer to hurt Dean! He wouldn’t be able to bear it if Dean was killed and he had known that he would be. _Think, Castiel, THINK!_

“Cas, are you alright?!”

Cas smiled. It was so nice to know that Dean was so caring towards him. He knew right away when Cas wasn’t feeling well. He shook his head, smacking himself on the forehead mentally. He spoke truthfully.

“…I wouldn’t say I’m alright, exactly…”

“Are you hurt?”

Cas heard a faint tinkling of metal on metal, and a TV being turned off. ‘ _I’m going out, Sammy!’_ was shouted in a muffled way, as if Dean was putting a hand on the speaker so Cas wouldn’t hear.

“No! Don’t!” Cas screeched like an injured wildebeest. He felt shame once more, for what would Dean think if he realized that Cas was capable of producing a noise like _that?_

“No? You’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt, but please, Dean, just _stay where you are!_ ” Cas whimpered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his face wrinkling. His bottom lip jutted out, and he scratched the wooden table anxiously.

There was a pause. “But…What do you mean, Cas? _What happened?!”_ He heard the clinking of metal again, and realized it was the sound of the Impala’s keys. Dean was getting ready to go outdoors, where Lucifer was.

Tears rolled from Cas’s eyes as Dean yelled. It was too much. He didn’t need to be yelled at.

“Please don’t yell,” Cas whispered, his voice choked.

Cas could almost hear Dean’s eyes widen with guilt. “Sorry, Cas, sorry, I didn’t mean it. You’re not in danger, are you?”

_I’m not going to kill you, Castiel._

_I’m going to kill Dean Winchester._

_When, Lucifer?!_ Cas thought, _When?!_

“No, but you are if you leave your house. Lock your door. Stay with Sam. But for the love of everything holy, _stay where you are!_ ”

“Fuck, Cas! What the hell happened?! I’ve _never_ heard you like this!”

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered.

“No need to apologize for being scared, dude.” Dean said in a reassuring voice.

There was silence. “…Can I come over or something?” Cas blurted out, immediately regretting it.

“Do you even need to ask?” Dean said, his tone shocked.

“…I mean, I’ve never been there before…”

“Cas, my door has always been open to you whenever you needed it to be. You know that, right? Here, let me tell you the address…”

Cas barely listened. He silently sobbed, but he was grateful. He always knew he could go to Meg’s, but now, he could go to Dean’s. He put his hand over his mouth so Dean couldn’t hear him crying, and began to listen.

“…Got that?”

“Yeah,”

“Good. I’ll heat you up something to eat. Be careful on the way over. Way you make it sound, the world’s about to explode. I’ll keep the door locked until you get here, OK?”

Cas knew Dean was being very kind. But he sensed the confusion and worry beneath his tone. Cas knew he was being vague when he told Dean to stay indoors and invite himself over, but he had no choice.

“D-Dean?” He stammered.

“Cas?”

“Thank you, so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I am so. Sorry. Feel free to drive cars over me. This shit is BEYOND late. Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned.  
> As always, feel free to message me with your questions, comments, and requests! Thanks for toughing this out!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my very first work here on AO3, so I'm a little new at this. I apologize if I am doing this wrong. It will take awhile for me to assimilate to this site. I began this fic at Fanfic.net, and have since been invited to Archive of Our Own! Thank you very much for choosing to read this; I have put a lot of effort into it! So, any suggestions so far? Requests? Questions? Comments? I'd be happy to have some reader feedback! Thanks again, and I shall post more chapters soon!


End file.
